Highschool for Dummies: The Lesbian Edition
by nayagasm
Summary: Brittany's the new girl in school and hellbent on winning Santana over. She's recruited Kurt and Quinn to help her get the girl. And Santana? Santana's just trying to wrap her head around this whole lesbian thing.
1. Chapter 1

This is not the average Brittana Glee fic! I decided to switch it up a bit and alter the original plot, just because I like to give the archives a bit more variety. I personally LOVE Brittany and Santana and tear up every time I watch them sing Landslide together. Brittana forever 3

Sorry if this story ends up a bit sketchy or hard to follow, I haven't written in a long ass time.

Characters may be a bit OOC (out of character), I'm changing the plot line after all.

Chapter One

Cheerleading for Dummies

_Click, click, pivot, turn._

Expensive brown three inch heels clicked down empty McKinley hallways, bouncing off the walls and pushing the blonde owner farther into her funk.

"Shit, where am I?" Her quiet voice whispered an empty hall.

Today was not a good day for Brittany S. Pierce. Lord Tubbington was smoking again and he wouldn't admit it. She'd tried a heart to heart talk with him, hoping it would put a stop to his addiction, only for him to mirror her image and stare blankly before pulling a condescending yawn where he then plopped down for a nap like the lazy, fat kitty he was.

And secondly, to top all this off and throw her deeper into her awkward funk, she was late for her first day of her new high school, McKinley High. And she was lost. Undeniably, truly, and completely lost. It wasn't abnormal for the blonde to lose her way, but definitely unnerving.

She tugged on her coral-colored sun dress, easily masking her nervousness with an expressionless face and dead even stare. There was no reason to hide her expressions seeing as no one else was in the hallway with her.

Whipping out her slick, shiny red and white phone she punched in the numbers for her mother's own cellular device.

"Mom? I'm lost."

"Honey, how can you be lost. I drove you up to the school and walked you to the front office."

"I had to go pee so I walked to the bathroom… Then I got lost."

"Never mind that dear, I'll just call the office so they can come find you okay?"

"Okay." The slender blonde slipped the contraption back into her dress pocket, waiting for some sign of rescue.

"_Will Brittany S. Pierce please report to the front office please?" _The crackling intercom spoke out in a thick Indonesian accent.

"Oh no." Brittany spoke to herself, bracing herself for what she knew was about to come.

Just then every classroom door in the hallway broke loose of its hinges, letting hundreds of students pour out at a blindingly fast rate.

Brace yourselves, ladies and gentleman.

"Where is she?"

"Brittney?"

"Brittney! I love you!"

"Please be my Baby Daddy!"

"That's not even possible." The blonde stated bluntly.

"Brittney! I'll get on my knees for you any day!"

She covered her lady love with her hands protectively.

"Brittney!"

"Brittney! I'll do anything! I'll kill my parents and give you their house for you!" A carrot top frizzy afro pushed into her shoulder, his glasses slightly cracked. He looked like he'd been trampled a couple thousand times, but obviously nothing deterred his determination to get up there with her.

"Everyone clear the way! Principal coming through. You, new student, follow me." The self-proclaimed principal pulled her with a browned hand through the throng of students and into the school's main office.

The blonde sat herself in a cushy, navy blue seat in front of his desk. She stared blankly at his desk, seemingly used to students starting a riot for her.

"Miss Pierce, are you alright? I am to understand that you are not Brittney Spears, but our new student yes?" The principal asked her, scanning her for any injuries AKA potential law suits.

"I will always live in the shadow of Brittney Spears."

The principal stared at her, unsure of how to respond.

A solid 30 seconds passed.

"Uh yes, well here is your schedule and a map. Please try your best to get to class on time and avoid starting anymore riots."

She let the papers settle in her hands and dazedly made her way through a mess of students, brushing off groping hands and miraculously spotting her classroom number in time. She knocked without hesitation and let herself be hurried in by an overexcited bustling, brunette teacher.

"Class, we have a new student! This is Miss Brittany Pierce, but I'm sure you all know after today's riot. Please treat her nicely. Sweetie, why don't you take a seat next to Miss Lopez and Mr. Jacob?" The bubbly teacher pointed out her seat across the classroom.

Brittany's eyes followed the teacher's finger to stop between a gorgeous Hispanic girl and the creepy afro boy from earlier.

The Hispanic girl hadn't seemed to notice her new, altered seating arrangements, instead taking her time to scrunch her nose up in disgust as she watched the afro boy gawk at the new student, drool slipping down his neck with a tiny bulge in his pants.

Brittany let her legs carry her to her designated seat, then plopped herself down on her plastic throne unceremoniously. She glanced warily at the creeper boy seated beside her, hoping that he wouldn't scoot any closer than that.

He did.

"Hello there, I'm Jacob. I know you're not Brittney Spears," he stopped to let his glasses clad eyes rake over her slender, tanned body before continuing, "but the offer still stands, baby." He finished it off with an uncoordinated wink, his glasses fogging up as he eye-raped her some more. He didn't seem to notice the greenish, pale shade crawling up the new girl's face.

"I think I'm going to barf." She said quietly, turning her gaze from him to the front of the room, hoping it would calm her queasy stomach.

"Cool it, Jew-fro. We all know the only action you get is from your little friend, Righty." The Hispanic girl beside her viscously took another bite out of his already crumbling ego.

He let out an unmanly whimper before picking up his stuff and scooting down the table to nurse his dainty, remaining pride.

Brittany let out a breath she'd been holding, hoping to keep from throwing up and embarrassing herself on the first day of school. "Thanks, I thought he'd never leave." She turned to her heroin and bit her tongue, noticing for the first time how undeniably hot the girl sitting next to her really was.

Black, shiny locks framed the girl's well-tanned face followed by a slender flawless neckline. She let her blue eyes follow down to a skimpy red cheerleader top, concealing her probably gorgeous bust.

_Stop._

She snapped her eyes back to her savior's face, just before the other girl turned to answer the previous victim.

_Just in time, Britt. _

"Jew-fro's a freak. But don't think for one second that we're friends. Here at McKinley you have to earn your spot, and a spot as my friend is hard to get." She glared harshly at her with steely brown eyes before turning her attention back to the front of the room.

"Okay." She whispered in response quietly, following example she turned her eyes back to the front.

The rest of the day went by without a hitch, Brittany walked down the halls aimlessly brushing through more groping hands. Her eyes scanned the walls dazedly, not really giving a damn about anything. Her feet brought her to a bulletin board covered in club signup sheets. Only one really caught her eye, but maybe it was because it was in the dead center of the board. The bold black print of Cheerleading Tryouts stared back in her face as she wondered if she could ever really be a cheerleader. She was pretty enough, she thought.

"Don't even think about it." Brittany turned around to find the owner of the voice, spotting her gorgeous classmate with her arms crossed defiantly.

"Why not?" Brittany questioned, she was definitely pretty enough. And she was a dancer, so she could probably pull off all the same moves.

"Only the best make it. And even if you make it, Sue is a sadistic bitch hell-bent on nationals."

Brittany stared at her blankly, her eyes slightly defiant. She turned back to the board and scribbled her name on the signup sheet under the Cheerleading Tryouts paper. She didn't really care if this girl thought she couldn't make it, but she knew that the cheerleading uniform was a symbol of status. If positions were really earned at this school she'd have it in no time with that uniform.

She stepped back and let the shorter girl step in and scribble her name.

_Santana Lopez._

"Santana," she let the name roll off her tongue like a song, "why are you trying out? You already have a uniform?"

"We have weekly tryouts to keep our competitive edge alive in our team. And don't act like we're friends. You're at the bottom of the food chain, beneath my feet." She strutted away with one last glare, but somehow it didn't seem as vicious as before.

Brittany continued to stare after her as she watched the tan legs carry her around the corner.

"She gets pissier than Lord Tubbington."

"Well I'd think so; I mean she's Satan after all." A voice replied.

Brittany whirled around on her heel to spot a short brunette girl with an oddly shaped nose.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Rachel Berry. Did you see the Glee signup sheet? I know you probably don't have nearly as much singing talent as me, but it'd be great self-esteem boost to our group." She smiled brightly; gloating like it was an everyday thing.

_It probably is._

"Whatever." Brittany said quietly in the same monotone. She scrawled her name across the Glee signup sheet, not really caring.

"Great! Tryouts are tomorrow at 4 right after school in the choir room down this hall." The smiling brunette walked away feeling accomplished. She made it half way down the hallway before being slushied in the face by a passing jock.

Brittany could barely hold in a laugh, biting her lip as she heard the end of school bell ring out loudly as intercom announcements echoed in the hallways.

"_Cheerleader tryouts will take place in the gymnasium now. No late exceptions, you worthless losers."_

The voice of a woman came on the intercom, probably the cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester.

Luckily Brittany was already clad in her last block gym clothes as she hauled her bag with her to the gymnasium. She stopped at the end of a long line waiting outside the gymnasium, everyone looking anxious.

Almost every girl left crying except the ones already clad in a vibrant red uniform.

"Brittany Pierce. Get in here you lifeless trash." A voice called out.

She took a deep breath and walked in confidently and smartly avoided eye contact with the coach.

"Listen here, Tweedle Dumb. Fabray and Lopez are going to show you this routine once and if you can't copy it completely. Well, you're off the squad. But don't get your hopes up, you probably won't make it." Sue droned out boredly, not expecting anything from the girl.

Santana and Fabray stood in front of her, glaring at her with a challenging look in their eyes.

"I'm Quinn, but you should already know that. I'm top bitch around here, everyone knows my name." The fair-skinned blonde said to her.

"Let's see what you got, new girl." Santana challenged her.

They waited for the music to start with suspense hanging in the air.

Beats and rhythms belted out from the gyms intercom as the two uniform-fit girls performed a series of steps and movements, ending with a back hand spring and a perfect landing pose.

Santana strut up to their latest would-be cheerleader.

"Think you can handle that?" She mocked with a sneer.

Sue picked her head up in interest; almost everyone in the room could feel the tension hanging in the air at the verbal challenge.

Brittany just copied their start positions, giving herself a quick twist of a back stretch. The song replayed in her head along with the intricate moves the girls pulled. It was the same as dancing to her, just with a little acrobatics involved.

The base of the music knocked her out of her thoughts as she flawlessly executed their moves, throwing up her arms with an extra bit of flare and pushing herself to prove herself to Santana.

_Maybe if I do really well she'll like me more._

She pushed the thoughts back to her head, trying hard to focus on her routine and flaunt as much precision as possible. She forced herself into the run up of the back hand spring, and pushed the soles of her feet into the ground to launch herself backwards for enough hang time. Little tremors of nervousness pricked on her skin remembering that she'd never tried this before.

_Focus, Britt. There's a first time for everything._

She kept the image of Santana's perfect back hand spring in her head, hoping to copy it to perfection. Her palms slammed down on the ground hard. She didn't give herself time to think, pushing her hands hard against the ground. Before she had time to panic any longer she felt the soft landing mat deflate beneath her feet.

Time stood stock-still along with everyone else in the room.

No sound. Just the awestruck faces of the would be cheerleaders and of course the cheerleaders.

But what made the whole risk worthwhile was the look of terribly concealed impress and shock on Santana's face.

Silence hung in the air until and slow, mocking clap filled the air.

"Congratulations, Tweedle Dumb. You're a Cheerio. Now get the hell out of my sight. Lopez, grab her a uniform."

Brittany barely registered herself being pushed out of the gymnasium, still dazed by the fact that she actually landed it. Albeit it was probably a terrible landing if the way her knee was feeling was any indication, but she was probably one of the only girls to actually have the balls to attempt it.

Santana pulled a Cheerio uniform out of a nearby closet and tossed it to her, "Fit it."

Brittany stood still, gawking at the red and white Cheerios uniform in her hands. She was brought out of her reverie by a tanned hand snapping her fingers in her face.

"Hey, try on the damned uniform already." Santana said, busting her happy bubble.

"But we're in a hallway." Brittany said bluntly, taking in her surroundings.

"We're also in front of a girl's bathroom if you haven't noticed."

The blonde let her mouth form a small 'o' before carrying herself into the white-tiled bathroom and pushing herself into a small grey speckled stall. She stared down at the uniform before grinning to herself in accomplishment. She stripped down to her undergarments before slipping into her Cheerio uniform and zipping up the back. It fit like a glove, she noted to herself as she stared at herself in the mirror. And she knew she looked damn good.

She strut outside to her company with a confident air about her, knowing the other good would probably gawk just as much as she did.

"So, what do you think?" Brittany asked to the other Cheerio whose back was facing her.

Santana turned around with an irritated expression before stopping herself from making a rude remark. Five seconds, but it might as well have been five minutes. Santana still couldn't think of a response, her usually fiery tongue dry.

"It looks good." Santana tried keeping up her badass front. Everything about her said 'I don't care', except for her eyes.

Why?

Because they were too busy scanning over the blonde's body and turning her into a stuttering moron. A knowing smirk stretched across the blonde's face, waiting patiently for the other girl to snap out of her eye raping session.

_5…_

_4…_

_3…_

_2…_

_1._

Santana's eyes snapped back up to her face with an 'Oh shit' look plastered all over her face.

"I was just-"

And as much as Brittany would have loved to hear the ridiculous excuses she knew were coming, she decided to take pity on the girl.

Just kidding.

"You were just checking me out." She flaunted the truth in the air like a trophy. Her eyes sparked with a predatory tease in her eyes waiting to see the other girl's reaction.

"No. I wasn't." So insistent.

"Oh, so what were you doing then, _teammate_?" Brittany let a teasing grin cross her lips, stretching out the word teammate as obviously as possible.

"I was-"

"You were?"

"I was just making sure it fit, okay? Damn I guess you're too stupid to see that." Worst insult ever. There was no bite, no glare, and it was no more aggressive than Kurt in a floatie. But somehow it did more visible damage than any of the insults she'd previously given the new girl. A small wince flashed across the blue eyes at the word 'stupid'.

"Yeah, I guess." Obviously hurt and hiding it badly.

Santana was at a loss. She could redeem her badass reputation with this girl by pushing her away and ignoring how much that might've actually hurt her. Or she could do something out of the ordinary and maybe stop being such an outcast.

And Santana thought that maybe that wouldn't be so bad. As much as she hated to admit it, she kind of liked how straightforward the girl was. And anyone who knew Santana knew that was a rare because she hardly ever liked anyone at all. So what was it going to be, badass or new friend?

"Stop looking like such a pussy, I didn't mean it." Her conscious decided for her. Santana Lopez doesn't apologize, but as stated before there's a first time for everything.

Granted it was a pretty terrible apology, the blonde could tell that this didn't happen very often and accepted it with a warm smile.

"I'll forgive you if you let us be friends."

Santana stood there and gawked at her. She'd done everything a friend shouldn't do. She insulted her and bitched at her and even gone so low as to openly tell her she was inferior to her. But somehow the request made a quirky smile fill up her mouth. It was a weird feeling knowing you were wanted for something other than looks and sex.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

A goofy smile sat on the blonde's face as she thought up her next move.

Handshake?

Hug?

Walk away?

She grew some temporary balls of bravery and wrapped her arms around the other girl in a quick hug. Before she moved she quickly whispered in the other girl's ear, "I still think you were checking me out."

And walked away fast, throwing a playful grin over her shoulder for the road.

Santana just stood there, contemplating what the hell just happened. It was just a hug so she didn't know why she was freaking out, but somehow she knew it meant a little bit more to both of them, like a silent pact.

But no matter how much it confused the hell out of her the quirky grin wouldn't leave her face as she shuffled her way back to the gym.

That girl sure was something.

* * *

><p>So, should I keep going? Guys, I need some feedback or I'm gonna stop right here! If I don't get at least eight (I thought ten was asking too much) reviews by July 11 then I'm dropping the story completely. Sorry! But I'm not writing if no one enjoys it.<p>

So! Anyway R&R, flames are fine as long as they're reviews!

And remember, BRITTANA FOREVER! None of that Bartie and Samtana crap!

- InternationalAnnoyance


	2. Chapter 2

I know all of you guys skip over the author's note in the beginning (it's cool, I do it too!) so I did that little sketch in the beginning to get your attention.

So first I'd like to start off Chapter Two by saying thank you so much for your reviews guys! As soon as I saw the little notifications in my email account my face pretty much split in two I was smiling so big! So, for the readers who apparently enjoy my work, I'm going to keep going with this.

And I'd like to give out a brief shout out to all the gay/les/trans/bi supporters out there! Your support and acceptance means a lot to people out there whether you know it or not.

Disclaimer: Glee does not belong to me and neither do the "for Dummies" series, but this story does.

InternationAnnoyance

Chapter Two

New Beginning Starts with Singing

Brittany looked all of her readers straight in the eye and said, "Stop reading right now and look at the author's note above."

Now on to the real story.

Brittany Pierce strut her way down a semi-crowded hall of McKinley High, letting her short red skirt swish around her caramel colored thighs. In one short day she'd transformed herself from the new hot blonde to the new hot _cheerio_ blonde.

Cheerio. The word meant nothing but breakfast to anyone outside of McKinley High's community, but to anyone who was anyone being a Cheerio was like being a celebrity. It was like playing God in their own little high school world. They made the rules and broke them just as easily. They were the most desirable girls in the whole damn school and all the guys wanted them. No exceptions (except Kurt ;)).

A beefy arm stretched out in front of her to lean assertively against a metal locker, successfully blocking her way down the locker-lined hallway.

"Hey, name's Karofsky. Dave Karofsky," the beefy arm was grossly complimented by an overconfident drawl and perverted grin, "And you're pretty hot."

"And you're really not. Off, beast. She's with me." A confident voice commanded.

Santana pushed herself into the conversation easily and grabbed at the bemused blonde's wrist before carting her off to class with her, leaving a confused letterman jock alone.

"I'm with you?" She let herself be pulled along through a crowd of gawking teens. Brittany knew Santana would never admit the suggestive implication in her words to Karofsky.

She was getting to be good at reading Santana, finding herself right again.

"Cheerios stick together. We may be bitching at each other all the time, but we bitch even more to keep our rep up. That's all. Got it?" It sounded more like a command than a question, but she let it go and just sent a smirk to the Hispanic girl pulling her.

"Denial." She said with a straight face, even though it was obvious to both girls how close she was to cracking a grin. Less than a second later she and Santana were grinning like Lord Tubbington after a good smoke and letting out a stream of giggles like Jew-fro with a porno and his friend, Righty.

"Come on blondie, let's get to class." Santana mumbled out through her laughs.

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly despite the increasing number of creepy, beef heads trying to ask her out and cop a feel before being threatened by her angry Latina friend. She didn't really care how often they hit on her; she still wasn't going to say yes. She was practically the Queen of Queer and damn proud of it, but she wasn't ready to admit it yet. Not until she knew someone else felt the same.

"Earth to ditz, let's go. The bell rang like two minutes ago." Santana grumbled pulling her by her long, lithe fingers through the metal archway of their classroom door.

She just smiled and basked in the feeling of practically holding hands with the other girl. Ever since yesterday and officially announcing themselves friends they'd been inseparable and the news of their friendship spread like wildfire.

But all good things must come to an end, she realized as she was gently seated across from Santana at a Cheerio/Jock table. Karofsky was down on the opposite end up the table avoiding all eye contact with Santana, still scared shitless from their previous encounter. Unfortunately, not all people were scared off.

Masculine, well-tanned arms settled on both sides of Brittany's shoulders facing palm down on the plastic grey lunch room table. A firm voice in her ear said, "Puckasaurus at your bed service." Santana just rolled her eyes, watching another guy try to hit on her new Cheerio friend.

"More like bad service." Brittany didn't miss a beat, keeping her eyes dead set on Santana who was smirking victoriously at the exchange.

"Damn, Santana. Already infected her with your bitch virus STDs?"

"Please Puckerman, the only sickness I see around here is your contagious dumbass idiocy." Santana hissed out.

"Touch talk for the girl I was dominating just last week." He retorted.

Brittany watched her grimace and felt the need to defend Santana just like she'd done for her with Karofsky and ever other lecherous guy in school.

"Tough talk for a guy with pudding in his face." Brittany said, well aware of the weird looks she was getting from both Santana and Puck. She ignored them, wrapping her skinny, pink digits around Santana's vanilla pudding cup.

"What?" Puck stared at her like she was crazy until a giant glob of pudding rained down and slapped him in the face before he could use his football skills to dodge it.

_Oh shit._

The cafeteria was silent and no one dared to make neither sound nor movement until a drip of the dessert slowly trailed down his face and fell to the linoleum ground, followed by everyone's jaws. Including Brittany's.

Her small, hesitant fingers were still curled loosely around the unopened cup of pudding as she stared wide-eyed at the short, fuming boy standing boldly behind a shocked Santana. She didn't dare make a move to see the jock's facial expression, but based on Santana's reaction, it must be pretty damn hilarious.

"That's for doing it with my Mom you jackass!" He cried out in hysterics, pudding still clinging to his hand like evidence to a crime scene.

"I can see the future? I must be like some closeted superhero." Brittany murmured to herself in a daze.

And then all hell broke loose.

"Get down!" Santana yelled at her, pulling Brittany down with her underneath the table.

Globs of mystery meat, and mashed up vegetables flew at the table from all sides to slap seniors, juniors, sophomores, and freshman into a food-induced fury. Stray peas and carrots slid under their table as the girls crawled their way across the battlefield of cafeteria mush, hoping to make it to the large double doors before getting caught in the crossfire. Freedom was only one quick dash away.

"San, I think we should wait it out. We might get wailed on." Brittany yelled out above the battle cries of a group of nearby sophomores.

"We can make it." Santana replied, taking note of Brittany's new nickname for her. She didn't comment on it, not sure whether she liked it or not, only knowing that it gave her nervous knots in her stomach.

Santana pulled her by the forearm and took five big strides, feeling a wave of victory and relief rush over her like a tidal wave as she felt the cool metal handle under her palm. And then that wave of relief got its ass kicked by a bowl of mystery meat.

Santana vaguely recognized a sharp gasp behind her as Brittany's voice. Brittany pushed them both out of the metal hinged door and into an empty hallway. She took a moment to assess the damage and spun Santana around to check for any major blows to her pride. Santana kept her eyes shut, hoping it was all some nightmarish scene. But it wasn't, she realized as she felt a chunk of something trickle down her cheek.

Her tension eased a little when soft hands brushed the substance from her eyelids and lip line. A good-natured giggle tickled her ears and gave her the guts to slowly open her eyes. She saw a softly smiling Brittany, her hands covered in globby, gunky mystery meat. Any other girl would be horrified at this point, trying hard to shake the food off their hands. But here was her blonde companion, laughing out selflessly and getting her hands dirty willingly.

Santana just watched her work her magic, brushing the blobs of food from her flawless complexion. She eyed the other girl's cheery smile, well-aware of her own smile reaching her eyes and crinkling at the corners. Santana brought her hands up to her face, rubbing away the last bits of meaty nastiness from her cheeks and swiping it fast across the other girls face to mark a thick, blotchy line down the blonde's nose.

Brittany mouthed a small 'O' before grinning childishly and rubbing slashes of kitty whiskers above the Latina girl's cheeky smile. She stuck her tongue out playfully, initiating a small challenge with her twinkling blue eyes.

"Oh no you didn't." Santana laughed out, the same quirky grin from yesterday gracing her face.

"Whatcha gonna do about it, Lopez?" Brittany skipped backwards out of arms distance, taunting her in a sing-song voice.

"I'm about to go all Lima Heights on your ass, Pierce." She bantered back grinning and dipping her fingers in the disgusting, pasty gunk.

The thought that she was acting completely unlike her bitchy self was lost as she felt her face getting sore from smiling so big.

Santana lunged forward, backing Brittany up against a corner wall and smushing her food covered hands into the blonde's shocked face. The cornered blonde just laughed out and rubbed a giant mess of the stuff over Santana's face to match her previously shocked expression.

They waited for their laughs to die down to quiet giggles, the rage of an epic food fight battle still crashing behind cafeteria doors. Santana let out another stream of un-Satan like giggles before pushing her clean forehead against Brittany's food free brow line.

"You sure are something, Britt."

"You know how I do." She replied, a grin still plastered to her pretty face.

"Come on, smartass. Let's go get this shit off." Santana pulled away slowly, much to Brittany's hidden dismay.

Santana stood in the middle of the hall, holding her pinky out to her. Brittany smiled at her lazily before slipping her own pinky into hers as they made their way slowly to the girl's bathroom. They sloshed water on their faces, thoroughly enjoying the clean feeling of their clear, meat free faces.

Frantic footsteps led up to the bathroom they were currently occupying to reveal Rachel Berry coated in pudding, jello, and much to their amusement, more mystery meat. The food clad girl stood before the two Cheerios before recognizing Brittany as her newest Glee applicant.

"Brittany," Rachel nodded in her direction, trying and failing to salvage her dwindling pride by acting nonchalant about the situation, "I'm simply ecstatic to hear your performance for the Glee tryout this afternoon." She ended with a smile at Santana's outraged expression.

"Britt, you can't be serious. Glee club is social suicide and you just got up to Cheerio status. Tell me you're bullshitting." To say Santana was flipping out was an understatement.

"Sorry San, I didn't know. But it sounds kind of fun, I'm doing this whether you like it or not. You could come with?"

"Yes, Santana it would be wonderful to have you try out! Not that you would make it of course, but it's always nice to see someone try." Rachel added in her two cents.

"Oh that's fucking it; I'm trying out just to show your sorry ass up." Santana growled out, tempted to lash out with her razor blades.

Rachel ran out the door, obviously intimidated by the aggressive Latina girl.

Brittany could only smile, satisfied with today's result and anxiously awaiting her Glee debut. She didn't notice Santana glancing at her from the corner of her eye, pleased she'd brought another big smile to the other girl's face. Then a thought crossed her mind, Sue was going to kill them. The cheerleading coach hated Glee with her very being and would do anything to rip them apart.

Santana grabbed Brittany, pinkies linked and made her way to Sue's office hoping to give it a 180 and get them both off the hook. She tentatively knocked on the wooden doors, branded with the holy name of Sue Sylvester.

"What do you want, trash? Get your useless life forms in here." Sue's voice commanded.

Santana pulled the other girl in to stand before the blonde bobbed coach. She released the other girls hand as quickly as possible, hoping not to give Sue anymore reason to sneer at them. "Coach Sylvester, Brittany and I have a proposition." Santana kept her eyes confident and surefire, hoping it was enough to convince both Coach Sylvester and herself.

"Well? Spit it out border crosser before I have to check you for a green card." (I hope you guys know what a green card is) Sue let the racial slurs pour out of her mouth vulgarly.

Santana brushed it off easily, used to her coach's behavior at this point. "Brittany wants to be useful to the team," She took a brief glance at Brittany to see her go along with it easily and nod her head briefly, "And she knows how much you hate Glee club, and wants to help you bring it down."

"I see. Not bad, Penis." Sue half complimented.

"It's Pierce."

"I don't care."

Brittany just looked down at her feet and shuffled in place. Santana took it as permission to go on, "So we've signed up for Glee tryouts in hopes to infiltrate Glee and destroy it from the inside out."

"I'm impressed by your dastardly, selfish thinking Santana. You have my permission to attend the tryouts, bring Fabray with you. Now get out of my sight, you future prostitutes."

Brittany and Santana wasted no time exited the room and letting go the breaths they'd been holding. The taller of the two smiled brightly at Santana and jumped up and down excitedly.

"San! This is great! We're really going to be in Glee!" Brittany squealed out, wrapping Santana in a constricting hug. Santana could feel that quirky, awkward smile again and just returned the hug hesitantly. Now she just had to convince Quinn.

The day rolled on slowly until their last period class. Santana strolled down the hallway, racking the scene for the familiar head of their school's top bitch. She spotted said girl flirting it up with an awkward hulk named Finn.

_Perfect._

Santana formulated a quick plan in her head spotting Rachel pull Finn away for Glee practice and made her way to her head cheerleader teammate. "Quinn, we need to talk."

"What do you want, Satan?" Quinn growled out with a cruel sneer. Santana just smirked at her equally cruelly, loving how her reputation preceded her. She was the school's badass and she loved it and how much power it came with.

"Berry's trying to steal your freakish Finn in that stupid Glee club and Brittany and I got permission from Sylvester to tryout and tear it up. You in?" She practically commanded in a growling tone.

Quinn just stared at her like she'd just grown a second head. "What the hell are you smoking, Santana. You never help me or anyone else."

_Except Brittany._

Santana remembered why she was doing this in the first place and doubled her attempts to convince the girl, "I'm not doing this to help you, Fabray. You know how much I'd like to take you down as head cheerleader, but I'm doing this because Sylvester wants us too. You really want to go against her orders? Or should I stop by her office right now and tell her. I'd love to stand on the top of that pyramid." Santana smirked smugly, knowing the thought of losing head cheerleader position would irk Quinn to no end.

"Fine. I'm in, let's go." Quinn glared and strut her way to the Glee room, leaving Santana to her own thoughts of her crazy, happy new Cheerio friend.

Just then a well-toned feminine arm linked with hers and pulled her towards the Glee room.

"I heard it all, San. This is great! Thanks so much," Brittany spun around and wrapped her arms around the Latina girls shoulders and held her close, "Let's get going, I can't wait to show off my skills." She grinned and pulled Santana with her through the door to the Glee meeting point.

"Rachel, who are all these people?" A tall man, obviously a teacher, stood in the center of the room.

"Mr. Schuester, these are our auditions." Rachel beamed proudly at him.

"Everyone makes the Glee club. No one tries out, they just sign up. You know that, Rachel." Mr. Schuester said.

"That's fine, we'll try out anyway. Just to show you, we've got what it takes." Quinn said smugly.

Mr. Schuester just nodded and motioned to the floor, "Alright, take it away, Quinn."

"Gladly." Quinn took the floor and performed her number with ease, thoroughly enjoying the jealous look on Rachel's face and the head-over-heels look in Finn's.

**Quick A/N: I didn't feel like writing out all of Quinn's song, but here's Brittany and Santana's duet of "Moves like Jagger" by Maroon Five ft. Christina Aguilera. It's amazing! And I think perfect for Brittany, I wish she'd sing it on Glee! I know some people don't like it when people write out all the lyrics, so I only did the beginning (Brittany), Santana's part, and the chorus. Lyrics will be in italics!**

Will clapped, "That was great! You're definitely in, alright Brittany and Santana can take the stage now."

Brittany led Santana up by her pinky. Santana looked confident but Brittany could see the resolve in her eyes crumbling.

"Hey, it'll be alright. Just follow my lead, I know you know the song. I heard you singing it earlier in first period." Brittany reassured in a hushed tone.

"Yeah, I got this."

Brittany waited for mellow whistling of her chosen song fill up the attentive room and popped her hips to the beat.

"_Just shoot for the stars  
>If it feels right.<br>Then aim for my heart  
>If you feel like.<br>Can take me away and make it OK  
>I swear I'll behave."<em>

Brittany let her voice ring out, and eyed Santana confidently. She popped her chest every time the beat called for it and danced her way around the room with Santana following easily. Their voices melting together gorgeously in the chorus.

"_And it goes like this."_

"_Take me by the tongue  
>And I'll know you.<br>Kiss me 'til you're drunk  
>And I'll show you.<em>

_All the moves like Jagger.  
>I've got the moves like Jagger.<br>I've got the moves like Jagger."_

Brittany put all she knew about dancing into the song, feeling all the gawks and impressed looks channeled towards her. Brittany beckoned to Santana with a 'come hither' finger curl and danced with her like no tomorrow, their movements moving smoothly together, busting their hips and stepping wherever felt right.

Santana heard her solo coming up and took a deep breath, pouring all her emotion into it.

"_You want to know how to make me smile.  
>Take control, own me just for the night.<br>But if I share my secret,  
>You're gonna have to keep it.<br>Nobody else can see this._

_So watch and learn,  
>I won't show you twice.<br>Head to toe, ooh baby, roll me right.  
>But if I share my secret,<br>You're gonna have to keep it.  
>Nobody else can see this."<em>

_"And it goes like this."_

Santana snapped her head back to Brittany with a huge grin and sang her chorus out loud with her, loving the sound of their voices crashing against the walls. But the song ended far too early in her opinion, as she registered the sounds of thrilled clapping.

Brittany just smiled and linked her pinky with the other girl's, and picked her seat in the back row beside Quinn. Santana, still basking in the afterglow of their amazing duet, leaned gently against Brittany's side and let out another giggle. "That was amazing." She said quietly.

"We sound like a couple after sex," Brittany laughed, "but yeah, it was pretty amazing. The singing I mean."

"That was great! Rachel, we can't thank you enough for these amazing additions to our group. Great work!" Mr. Schuester commented proudly. Rachel just huffed and sat back in her chair, no doubt upset at the sudden rise of competition.

The rest of Glee continued, discussing a lesson about something that neither Brittany nor Santana really cared about. But time flew by for the two of them and they were out the door and heading to their designated cars in no time, pinkies still linked.

"Catch you later, San." Brittany smiled and pulled the other girl into a tight hug, rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Yeah, can't wait." She replied honestly with a smile and pulled away a bit reluctantly. She plopped down into her driver's seat and revved up the engine, watching Brittany walk away to her own car and speed off and out of the parking lot.

Santana threw her head back and laughed to no one, "God, my life fucking rocks."

Now read the author's note below.

So! There's Chapter Two, hope you guys liked it! I actually enjoyed writing this chapter no matter how much my cramping hand didn't. I'd also like to add in that I'd LOVE some suggestions because I'll be out for a week to some high-rep soccer camp like 10 hours away and won't be writing for awhile. REVIEW! Suggestions for plots, Sue's new insults, couple pairings and anything else would be appreciated.

Remember: Suggestions, Suggestions, Suggestions.

Be safe! Love you guys!

InternationalAnnoyance


	3. Chapter 3

So I hate to admit guys, I'm kind of (huge understatement) bummed to see that I only have 24 reviews. I mean I know I'm not very good and kind of a noob when it comes to this writing stuff, but ouch. I was gone to camp for 2 weeks, excited to get home and check if I got any more reviews. As soon as I got home I hauled my ass upstairs to my computer and logged in, and wait for it… saw a total of two reviews.

Bam.

Like a fist in my eye. Total burn.

Anyway, sorry to turn this into a sappy rant page. Now review replies!

* * *

><p><strong>Pleasegirldontyoudieonme:<strong> Thank you so much. I read your review and as soon as I was done I screamed, "WOOP WOOP!" at the top of my lungs. Kind of lame of me, but I was ecstatic that you liked it!

**StillHerRoger:** I see you don't have an account (or at least I'm assuming that's what it means when it's not highlighted… I'm still new to this thing), but I'm hoping you're still reading! A HUGE shout out to you and a bigass smile for you because you said it's one of your favorites!

**Kalexico:** I totally agree. I'm hoping I can keep it interesting. I made this story after reading so many stories that were too alike for my taste. And it's kind of short, but you should check out "Stranded with Dinosaurs" by FrogsRcool. It's pretty interesting and even though I know the Jurassic Park story, it still kept me wanting more. I adore it! And you. This is me sucking up so you keep on reviewing ;)

**GhastlytheGhost:** Hoping you're still reading, I read your review and took note of it. Did my best to sort that out with some new insults in chapter 2, hope I've satiated your needs.

**Whatever1260:** Suggestion noted and very appreciated, will do!

**Kay:** Hoping you're still reading! I totally just realized that, my bad! I'll do my best not to slip again, but thanks for reading and commenting! It really goes to show that you were paying attention and not just skimming the lines.

**Anna:** If you're still reading, I'd like to say your suggestions are welcome, appreciated, and will be put into action ASAP!

Disclaimer: Glee does not belong to me and neither do the "for Dummies" series, but this story does.

International Annoyance

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

The Morning After

A black head of bedraggled hair poked out beneath a mess of Egyptian cotton sheets. Santana Lopez, age 17, snoozed somehow gracefully with her face stuffed in a pillow and her legs strewn oddly, hanging off the bed.

This wasn't her normal sleeping pattern.

Why, you ask?

Because most days her feet were tucked comfortably inside her sheets, but this wasn't most days.

A loud, blaring alarm snapped the slowly awakening Latina out of her slumber. Bleary eyed and desperate she waved her arms around, sufficiently knocking everything off of her nightstand. But despite her best efforts, the obnoxious noises carried on mocking her. Santana glared daggers in the direction, her gaze only filled with half the vigor as usual. She slapped her hands on it fiercely and hurled it across the room to smack into a crinkled up poster of Madonna.

Santana groaned in frustration. She'd forgotten to unplug the damn thing for the weekend. Then she remembered she had absolutely nothing to do for the weekend, what kind of Cheerio was she? Not even a hot date to suffice. What was she going to tell Quinn when she bragged about her own weekend? She groaned again melodramatically.

"Sanny, tell the zombie to stop…"

Santana pushed herself back into bed and thought of zombies and that sleep filled voice that sounded oh so close.

"Thanks, San."

She was up off the bed in no time, scrambling to find the source of the voice. Quickly untangling herself from her expensive sheets she ripped them off her bed to see a very pretty, very half-naked blonde.

_Oh shit. Did we do it? What happened last night? Did Puck spike our drinks again? No there wasn't a party last night. This is just like the Hangover, where's that fucking tiger?_

Santana stood stock still, staring dumbfounded at the angel in her bed. Her jaw hung loose in the air, panic racing like a loose cannon in her eyes.

"Cold." Brittany mumbled groggily, no doubt hoping that someone would fix that problem for her. She lazed around on the bed, oblivious to the Latina girl staring at her in the room. Said Latina closed her mouth, letting her top lip meet her lower lip and just glanced at the sheets before picking them up skeptically. She turned her eyes to the shivering blonde and took pity, a miracle yes, but took pity nonetheless and laid the golden sheets over her. She ceased her trembling immediately; only to shiver again as Santana brushed her thumb across her forehead to move a featherlike golden wisp to the side.

Santana drew her hand back abruptly, taking notice of how the sleeping girl seemed to curl into her touch. "Sleeping Beauty." Santana whispered to the silent walls. She wandered away from the girl, much less panicked than before and hoping to sooth her racing heart with a healthy dose of homemade waffles. She'd deal with this awkward situation later.

Her bare feet pitter pattered against the stone tiled kitchen floor to a nearly empty pantry. Searching eyes flittered past empty boxes of cereal and past due instant oatmeal packages to land upon a half empty box of waffle powder mix. She smiled softly to herself, imagining the look on Brittany's face when she presented her with her own Lopez home cooked waffle.

She smiled and pulled a bowl and whisker out of her pantry before carefully mixing everything together; trying her best to keep it to a thick, slightly lumpy waffle consistency so it had a little battery goodness left in the crust when she cooked them.

It had been a solid three months since she'd met the blonde, but time didn't seem to matter to them. Their bond grew closer every day, bit by bit. And everyday Santana came home to an empty house, but the goofy smile never seemed to fail to cross her lips. But now, without the blonde in the room to bring that smile back, she remembered why the house was empty. She fumbled with her pajama pockets to cup her cell phone in her hand. She whipped it out and checked for any missed calls.

One missed call.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Mami."

She pressed the 'select' button and waited impatiently for the name to pop up.

Brittany Pierce. The name flashed in bold white letters.

Santana choked a little, barely holding back a dejected sigh. She hummed to herself as she stirred her pain away, her humming quickly turning to singing. Her Gleemates always sang out their feelings, so why shouldn't she? Brittany was knocked out cold anyways; she probably wouldn't be up for another ten minutes.

She hesitantly let her voice fill the void of space, the empty space in her heart.

The space she held specifically for her mother.

"_It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song.  
>You can't believe it; you were always singing along.<br>It was so easy and the words so sweet.  
>You can't remember; you try to feel the beat."<em>

She slid the bowl onto a counter, letting her body flow with the music, emotion flowing from every pore of her body. She twisted with the music in her head, passing by the kitchen counter. She slapped her hands down on the counter, voicing the chorus lyrics louder than she would have intended. She spun herself with her imaginary partner, remembering how her mother waltzed with her around the kitchen like this when she was younger.

"_You spend half of your life trying to fall behind.  
>You're using your headphones to drown out your mind.<br>It was so easy and the words so sweet.  
>You can't remember; you try to move your feet."<em>

She stopped in the middle of the song and collapsed on her legs to the floor. She hung her head low in shame.

"I should be stronger than this." She mumbled to herself.

She picked herself up off the ground to stand beside her granite counter. Her eyes fell back to her phone on the counter. She slipped her fingers around the black, plastic casing and went to her gallery searching for a specific picture. She pulled her right hand up to her mouth and held back a whimper. There she was with her Mami back in June. That was five years ago, and three years before she left her fifteen year old daughter to fend for herself.

"Mami, why did you leave me? What did I do?" She clenched the phone in a death grip. Her finger hovered over the dustbin button, ready to delete the cherished photo. Delete the picture. Delete the pain.

She steeled herself and gently laid her finger on the button, not enough to press the button but just enough to scare her. She jerked her finger back and pressed the button beside it instead.

The gallery spun to the next picture to reveal a laughing blonde beauty and herself in their first block class. Her small smile was back and determined to bring her to better days. She snapped herself out of her depression, "I've got to finish these damnable waffles before Sleeping Beauty wakes up."

She smiled to herself at her new little nickname for the golden-haired goddess.

"Sleeping Beauty, eh?"

Santana snapped her head up from her waffle batter before doing a 360 and facing Brittany leaning against the archway to the kitchen. She scrambled for words, her jaw loose and unhinged again. There she stood in all her glory, an oversized blue, button up flannel shirt draping loosely over her denim-shorts clad hips. Her sleeves were rolled up and her bed head hair stuck out in odd angles. She strut her way over to the waffle making girl, squinting her eyes as the Saturday sunshine hit her like a brick.

"Cute name, princess charming. I see you didn't bother to wake me up with a kiss," She added in for good measure, peeking over the Latina's shoulder to see a bowl of patter. "But it's okay. Waffles make up for it."

She leaned up against the counter and bumped her hip against Santana's playfully before winking and clawing the air cutely. All of a sudden she beamed to herself and turned to the still shocked Latina, smirking cockily at her.

"So San, how did you like last night?"

An impressive array of cusswords made their way into Santana's mind before she managed to find her voice. She choked on air a couple more times before she could make use of her voice. She eyed the smirk warily before stuttering, "Good. Great. Amazing."

"Oh really? What was your favorite part? Mine was the cuddling."

_After sex cuddling? No maybe she means innocent sleep cuddling. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

Santana's mind was going into overdrive, trying hard to decipher the girl's expression. She was hoping to play it off and say the same. But cuddling? Everyone knew Santana Lopez. And Santana Lopez did _not_ cuddle. She let out a groan, "Brittany I don't remember anything, please you're just fucking with me right now."

Brittany looked at her, completely offended. She pushed herself off the counter and started leaving the room, doing her best to make herself look as upset as possible. She looked absolutely livid and even slipped a few tears down her face for her own amusement.

Santana flipped shit.

"Wait, Brittany. Maybe I hit my head or something, um my favorite part? Definitely the foreplay. See? I remember everything."

Brittany spun on her heel and eyed her, sniffling back her tears and crossing her arms across her chest insecurely. "You really mean that, San?"

Santana nodded, still unsure of herself. But was sure she made the right decision and let out a sigh of relief after she saw the tears stop flowing. Brittany glided across the room to stand in front of Santana and rubbed away her tear streaks. "Hey, San?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm totally fucking with you." She deadpanned, waited ten seconds and then grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Complete silence took the room and didn't loosen its hold for a whole twenty seconds.

"Fuck you Brittany, and you're not getting waffles either."

Santana spun on her heel and stormed over to her batter, stirring it with all the pent up anger of a woman going through menopause. She did her best to zone out the boisterous laugh of the blonde in her ear. But she still couldn't help that smile from crossing her lips, no matter how duped she felt.

Brittany just strolled over, tears of laughter still pooling down her cheeks and hugged the breakfast chef around the waist from the back and pushed her lips against the hair shoulder. Her laughter muffled by the tanned shoulder, the vibrations and shudders still shook the two and interrupted Santana's stirring pattern.

"Sanny, I'm sorry," she mumbled against the girl's shoulder in a pleading fashion, "Can I still have some waffles?"

"Fine, but you're washing the dishes." Santana grumbled, still a sore loser after the whole morning fiasco.

"Deal." Brittany grinned cutely; glad she could still bring a smile to the girl this early in the morning. Her smile wavered as she recalled entering the kitchen earlier and watching her friend sing, dance, and cry only moments earlier. She itched with a burning need to race over to the girl and pick her up in her arms, hug the pain away with her soft words and loving touches. But she knew Santana would only be ashamed of her weakness. She didn't need to know that Brittany had seen her, so she stood back and watched the achingly beautiful girl self-destruct and pull herself back together again.

She pushed herself up on the counter to get a better look at Santana's waffle making and watched the Latina act like an average housewife making breakfast for her lover.

_Lover. _

She liked the sound of that, she decided as Santana poured the batter into a waffle maker.

"Britt, how'd you get here anyway? I woke up and all I saw was a half-naked girl next to me."

_Not that I don't appreciate it._

Santana thought to herself and waited for the much needed response.

"You told me you'd help me with my homework last night but you never waited for me at Quinn's car like you said you would. So I took the bus here late last night and copied your homework! Then I got sleepy, so I went to sleep." She said without a care in the world like it was something people did every day.

"How did you get in? I swear those doors are locked." Santana had new locks every week. Some might say she was paranoid, but hell she lived in Lima Heights Adjacent for God's sake. You could never be too carefully in her opinion.

"Window!" Brittany beamed a childish smile in her direction.

Just then her phone sounded out with a text and interrupted her daydreams.

**U, me, Satan, Quinn road trip? (; - Puckasaurus**

"San, Puck just texted me. He says he wants a road trip with you, me and Quinn! It sounds so fun, can we go? Please?" She chewed down on her lip in the excitement of it all as Santana laid a steaming hot waffle in front of her.

"Sounds fun, but my cars in the shop and Puck wrecked his. And God knows Quinn won't let any of us in her car." Santana said, trying to find a way around their transportation problems.

Brittany hummed in acknowledgement and texted the mohawk headed boy back.

**No car. motorcycle, wbu? – B**

Santana leaned over her shoulder and scanned the text, "You have a motorcycle?"

"Yeah, I do motocross too. It's fun!" She chirped up happily.

"That's awesome, I'm riding with you because there's no way I'm putting my arms around 'Puckasaurus' stomach." She made air quote gestures just to exaggerate it and shuddered in disgust.

Brittany nodded, her mouth full of waffle and her eyes crinkling with excitement. Santana turned her back to the girl just so she wouldn't see her smiling big at the other girl's expression.

**U ride? Me too, meet at Breadstix 1. C u l8r sexii (; - Puckasaurus**

"Breadstix at one," Brittany mumbled out through a mouth half full of waffle and syrup. "These are really yummy!"

Santana smirked proudly, "Secret Lopez recipe." She winked and put her finger up to her lips at the word 'secret'.

Brittany hummed in response and checked the clock, "Oh! It's already eleven we should start getting ready." She washed off all the plates and dragged Santana into her room to pick out an outfit.

"You should wear red! I really like red, red like apples. Candy apples. They're so red and yummy. You'd look good in it, especially on my motorcycle because it's black. You should wear a tank top! And a leather jacket or something so you'll look all badass. Not that you don't all the time, but leather is so cool." Brittany babbled on, sifting through the giant closet and throwing clothes out onto the bed.

Santana just lay back on her bead and stared in amusement as the other girl pulled out about half her closet. Normally she'd be upset about someone going through her clothes and pulling out almost all of them for her to clean up. She just let that soft smile reach her eyes. But this was Brittany we're talking about, and Brittany just had that effect of Santana.

Santana twisted around to lie on her back and stare at the ceiling, going over the past events in the last three months. She'd met Brittany and the rest was a blur, a good blur. Everything after that moment had been laughter and smiles, but only with Brittany. She still reserved her spot as bitch queen extraordinaire by snapping at everyone else. No one dared mess with her, and no one dared mess with Brittany.

Last week a sophomore tried to get away with bumping into Brittany and knocking her books to the ground by accident. The next day he was found hanging by his jacket hoodie in a hallway archway. Everyone took turns throwing slushies at him, even Jew-fro.

Brittany had chastised her on being nice to underclassmen, but Santana could see how thankful and amused she really was by her feat.

Out of nowhere a white tank top dropped unceremoniously onto her face, followed by a brown leather jacket, adorned with brass buttons. It had a rugged, European look and made her look like a classy British-Latina girl. Very sexy in her opinion.

Brittany kept rummaging through the piles and sprang up, waving a pair of skinny jeans victoriously through the air. She giggled excitedly as she tossed it to the Latina and ran out of the room before screaming, "You better wear it, or I'll leave you stranded by Jew-fro's house!"

Santana visibly paled before pulling on all the clothes and checking herself out in front of a mirror. She looked _good._ And Brittany thought so too judging by the blue eyes racking her frame in the door way repeatedly. Santana smirked and waited for Brittany's eyes to meet her own brown ones.

She gasped playfully, "Brittany Pierce, were you just _checking me out?_"

Brittany gawked at her, remembering her saying those very words to her only three months ago. She struggled to regain her composure and strutted up to the Latina. She held her confident front and stood tall in front of the other girl, no less than three inches away from her.

Blue eyes met brown and held the gaze fiercely.

_Revenge is a bitch, hon. _

Santana kept her thoughts to herself and smirked, waiting for a response.

"Maybe I was?" She smirked, and spun on her heel with her hair flowing behind her.

Santana stood in her spot, "Hot damn." She ran out the door to follow the blonde, pulling her high brown boots on over her jeans.

They walked the rest of the way to a bus stop, holding pinkies as soon as they stepped off the driveway. Santana eyed every alley warily, her other hand ready to pull out her knife at any second. Brittany took quick note of it and slipped a second finger into Santana's hand. It was a little more intimate than usual, but did the job and calmed the fiery Latina down easily.

Brittany smiled, a skip in her step as she stopped in front of the bus stop. Their pinky and ring fingers still joined in a curling hug. Three fingers away from holding hands, Brittany thought to herself with a playful smile. They rode the bus in silence, staring out the window and shifting their fingers every now and then. But they never let go.

Half way through the ride they stopped at a stop light and let more passengers on. Brittany sat near the window and watched all sorts of people pass by her window. Kids, parents, and people of all ages and all emotions strolled down the sidewalks. Some were crying, some were laughing. It was all so surreal. But through the crowds of different people, Brittany managed to spot two people that were so much more interesting than everyone else in her opinion.

Kurt, she recognized, and a boy holding his hand rather intimately and dressed in a navy blue blazer uniform. They ignored all the passing glares and paid attention to only each other. Brittany let a small smile grace her face as she watched the other boy pull off his blazer and wrap it around Kurt's shoulders with a chaste kiss on the cheek. The chilly November air must have gotten to them.

She hesitated for a second before tugging softly on Santana's sleeve for her attention. Santana turned her attention to her immediately, looking at her with curious, deep brown eyes.

"San, aren't they cute?" She pointed at Kurt and the other boy, desperately hoping for a positive response from Santana.

Said Latina took a second to look between the homosexual couple and Brittany, watching the warm smile and the adoring look in her blue eyes. She took a deep breath and smiled. She wouldn't ever tell Kurt and Blaine what she really thought of them, but she'd tell Brittany. The words she was about to speak would shock the gay couple into a coma.

"Yeah, Britt. They're cute." She smiled softly as she watched the autumn leaves flutter around outside the window. She yearned to be held the way Kurt and Blaine held each other, but crushed that hope in the back of her mind as she watched and elderly couple shoo them away with a newspaper. A couple passing adults sneered at them and bumped them rudely. The couple continued on, braving the onslaught of discrimination.

Brittany watched the yearning look in Santana's eyes change to a look of pained wanting and then anger as she saw the mistreatment of the boys. "Maybe they'll find somewhere else. Like New York or California where they can get married and be okay."

Santana just stared her in the eye and didn't say anything. But her eyes spoke it all, she didn't believe Brittany in the slightest. Santana noticed the elderly woman across the aisle eyeing her hand grasped in Brittany's and shakily pulled their grip apart.

Brittany felt a sharp pang of hurt sucker punch her as they separated. Santana turned her eyes away and didn't say a word for the rest of the ride. At that moment Brittany Pierce knew that there was hope. Hope that maybe Santana would love her. And it would be difficult, but it would be so, so worth it.

* * *

><p>Ten pages. Ow.<p>

I have a sore in my neck and shoulder the size of Texas but I really, really loved writing this chapter. So I'm only going to say this once, because I'm not writing another chapter unless I get enough reviews. Sorry guys, but I'm not a self-motivated type of person. So it's review or nothing.

This chapter was definitely longer than my other chapters and it was totally inspired by the song in this chapter, Eet – by Regina Spektor.

Review. Twentyfive by next Tuesday or I'm out. There's like a billion hits and views but no REVIEWS. Maybe I'm being a bitch about this but it's like my only motivation.

And by the way I'm thinking of writing a new fic along the side, so put that in your review. Soccer Brittana or Harry Potter Brittana? I know more about soccer quite frankly, but I think it'd be interesting (:

My bad if I messed up my grammar anywhere, I did this all without breaks so I might've blanked out and messed up somewhere in here.

Over and out!

International Annoyance


	4. Chapter 4

OWOW! Twenty five reviews! Past the deadline but who cares. Thanks so much to my positive reviews, not so much thanks to my not so positive reviews. But still, thanks for reviews in general (: Those of you who DID review and said awesome stuff that made me throw a mini party, this chapter is for you in hopes that you continue to read and review.

I understand that some people say "Write for yourself", but I don't just write for myself. Why would I _just_ write for myself and then post it online? I mean I can write for myself just fine, but not have to post it online. Long story short, I write for the readers too. And some may be reading this and thinking, "If you write for the readers then why are you threatening to stop writing?"

Well, simply put, I expect reviews because it means readers are interested. In a writer's eyes (not all, mind you), if there aren't reviews then it means that people aren't happy with the writer's style or dialect or God knows what else. So I need reviews to know that I'm doing it "right", and by that I mean that I want to be able to write what you, the readers, like. I need your opinions and your outlook because the customer/reader is almost always right.

And I have just now realized that there is a such thing as a PM box to reply reviews. I'm a noob, sue me.

Also I would like to point you all to Heather Morris's song "Love-a-licious" on youtube because I swear it was like my ears had an orgasm when I heard it. Yes, it is that good. And hot. So, so hot. I was actually listening to it while I started writing this, but had to stop and pause it because her voice is so distracting. And hot. I have an addiction. I'm even starting dance classes just because of her. I'm such a loser. Anyway, story time!

* * *

><p>Chapter Four<p>

Cheerios, Breadstix, and Side of Puckasaurus

"Wear the helmet."

"No it'll mess up my hair."

"San, wear the damn helmet."

"No."

Santana Marie Lopez. Wanted by many, feared by many, and currently arguing with a very hot, very bold blonde straddling a sleek, black framed motorcycle (though Santana couldn't deny that the position companied with the fierce blonde was turning her on more than she'd like to admit). The usually cheery girl wore a face of steely-eyed determination as she held out a cherry red headpiece to the Latina girl.

"Santana Marie Lopez you will put on this helmet right now or I will make you feel worse than you ever have in your entire life." Brittany growled out, absolutely ready to follow up with her promise.

Santana just snorted humorlessly, "As if you could ever take me on, Britt Britt." Santana was a trained fighter, street fighter that is. She fended for herself for days on end in Lima Heights Adjacent when her mother left her and the only thing keeping the notion of her still living was the fact that money came in monthly to her daughter under her name.

"I didn't say I would fight you."

Santana turned her back on the blonde to survey their surroundings for any creepy neighbors watching them. Brittany lived in a fairly decent neighborhood, the neighbors weren't half as creepy as the ones Santana used to live with Lima Heights Adjacent and she was pretty relieved knowing that the blonde would be safe where she was living. At least now she knew she wouldn't have to break out those brass knuckles her Mami bought her for her twelfth birthday.

"San…"

Santana twisted her back to flicker her deep, brown pools to the brazen blonde and nearly froze.

There stood Brittana Pierce, clutching a cherry red helmet to her chest, tears flowing down her cheeks in a steady stream. Her eyes were puffy and taking on a pink pigment and her lips trembled in a barely audible whimper. She brought a palm up to her teary eyes and rubbed hard, only spreading the pinkish color to the irritated area.

_This isn't fair._

Santana stood there, gaping widely.

"Why can't you just wear it, Santana? I just want for you to be safe. B-Because I care, you know?" Brittany turned her back frigidly on the Latina girl; her shoulders hiked up around her neck and tensely gathered with her angry tears. She let out a croaked sob and straddled her motorcycle, tossing the helmet into a pile of clustered junk in her messy garage.

"Well?" She sniffled loudly before gritting her teeth. "Are we going or what? I don't have all day, _Santana._" She growled out the other girl's name like the plague.

"Fuck you and your stupid mind games, Britt. Shit should be fucking illegal," Santana grumbled, hooking a finger under the helmet. She eyed the protective gear and shifted her gaze to Brittany, whose eyes still shone with angry tears. She could see the hidden mirth in the sparkling blue eyes now, "Playing that card twice in a day already. That's a straight up bitch move, Pierce."

"I learn from the best."

"Fuck you."

"Already did last night," Brittany winked at Santana, her tears long gone and replaced with a fierce, but playful look, "Job well done I must say."

Santana flushed brightly and pushed the offensive helmet on before the blonde could notice the visibly darkened cheeks. And Santana would never say it out loud, but _damn_ she wished what the blonde said was true. Grumbling to herself, she straddled the black shaded vehicle and pressed her core into Brittany's backside.

Said blonde shivered a bit at the feeling before revving up the engine and pushing off the pressure-washed drive way with her orangey-brown leather moccasin dressed foot. Feeling the vibrations hum beneath her, she beamed and tilted her head to the Latina behind her. "You ready?"

Santana tightened her arms around her waist timidly and nodded. Then she noticed something.

"Hold the _fuck_ up. What the hell, Brittany!" She yelled angrily, yanking the red helmet off violently and storming a good two yards from the blonde.

"Santana, what is it? Did the sides burn you? Have you never ridden one before?" Brittany was livid and up off her black Yamaha in a second flat.

Was she hurt? Was she injured? Would she be okay? Was she upset?

No, no, no, and yes.

"Why aren't you wearing a helmet, Britt! You just told me how you wanted me to be safe and wear this thing and now, _now_ you have the balls to drive this contraption without one? What the _hell_ kind of logic is that!" Santana was in her face now, eyes screaming and hands making all kinds of violent motions.

Brittany frowned, "I just wanted you to be safe, that's all San. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you mad." Her eyes took sudden interest in the fringed strings of her denim shorts. "I just wanted you to be safe."

Santana's eyes softened considerably, letting her previously lashing arms fall down to her sides limply. "Thank you, Britt. Thank you for caring." She gingerly cupped the garnet helmet in her arms, letting it rest precariously against her taut stomach. "But I'm not going to get on this thing knowing that I could be the only one getting off. I have no doubt that you're an awesome rider, but some people aren't and I don't want them hurting you either."

Brittany nodded slowly, "I could check my garage for another helmet, but I'll have to punch out the visor or else I won't be able to see so well. I'm not used to riding with a helmet."

"And that better change. I don't want any Channel 9 News reports on a smokin' hot blonde getting hurt." Santana smiled and bumped her hip playfully into hers.

Beaming big, the taller girl giggled before half-jogging her way into the grey garage interior. Flipping through random metal parts and mechanic tools, her eyes finally rested upon an artistically designed blue and white Shoei Yamaha helmet. She grinned toothily, gathering her hair up around one side of her neck and prying off the black shaded visor.

"Santana! I found one, and it's kind of really sexy." She bragged, tossing it in the air. She shrugged it on slowly and bounced gleefully upon noticing its perfect fit.

Santana rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but agreed because yes it was kind of sexy. Kind of _really_ sexy. She smiled and shrugged on her own helmet, "Well? Are we going? We don't have all day, _Brittany._" She joked, mocking the blonde from her earlier theatrical performance of angry tears.

The reply came just as cheekily, "Alright, alright. Don't get your panties in a bunch." She straddled her ride gracefully, long legs hanging on both sides and waiting patiently for the fiery Lopez to follow her example.

She followed suite, her own caramel legs bumping into the other girl's every now and then. She lifted Brittany's helmet and her own above their ears before replying breathily, "I can't." She paused. "I'm not wearing any."

Brittany yanked her helmet down hard and was on the paved roads in no time, thankful that the helmet had blocked out her bright red blush, but grumbling because even over the roar of the wind against their frames, she could still hear Santana's boisterous laughter.

* * *

><p>Puck fumbled with his phone, anxiously awaiting any text or confirmation of arrival from his second favorite Cheerios. It's half past one and he's nervous. He's nervous because he's here with a girl. Now normally this wouldn't be a problem for Noah Puckerman, but it's not the fact that she's a girl. It's just the fact of who this girl is.<p>

Quinn Fabray.

Quinn Fabray, the girl that he'd had a crush on since second grade when she spilled glue in his mohawk and he cried because Santana called him a weenie when he whined as the teacher tried to rub it out. Not the smartest teacher on the block, he recalled.

But as it was mentioned, this was Quinn Fabray. The girl that he'd been crushing on for years, and the girl that just so happened to have broken up with her boyfriend, Finn, recently.

Just then, the roaring engine of a black Yamaha neared and ended just as fast as it came. The bell's jingle of the door opening sounded. Two heads of flawless hair poked over the booth's high counter, one a glossy black and one a vibrant blonde.

Puck sprang to his feet, "Brittany! Santana! Jesus Christ, you guys took forever."

Quinn interjected with a snort, "Jesus Christ? You're Jewish, Noah."

Brittany and Santana snickered to themselves, pinkies interlocked and hands swaying casually. Puck and Quinn were still the same – bickering and retorting as always.

"Calm your tits, Quinn. Let's go." He twirled his keys, pushing the three girls back through the clear-paned door.

Tits now calm and everything good and well, the foursome straddled their rides before veering off down the car infested highway. They were a good thirty minutes down a back road at 45 mph when an expensive looking sports car pulled up beside the group. Both groups slowed considerably to maintain conversation.

The top crawled down to reveal two handsome men, no doubt local college boys. "Hey, sexy! Why don't you ditch that cockblock and come join some real meat!" They motioned to Puck, who the girls guessed was the dubbed "cockblock."

Santana clenched her arms hard around Brittany's sides, her insecurity showing through just a tad. She didn't like the way that guy in the passenger seat was eyeing up her blonde companion's delicate frame. Brittany, supposedly sensing her uneasiness, took her hand off for a split second to defiantly gesture to each breast before shaking a finger in their direction with a cocky smirk that showed through her eyes. Santana grinned before flipping them the bird and pressing her chest more prominently into her chauffer's upper back.

The dumbasses' reactions? Priceless.

The pair sped up, but not before joining Puck's laughing fit and pulling off into a deserted dead end road surrounded by clumps of trees as far as the eye could see. Santana and Brittany stumbled off the vehicle, still cracking up from their previous events. Puck and Quinn followed, the latter snickering behind a delicate palm and the former full out guffawing.

"Did you see the look on their faces?" Brittany giggled spastically, head tossed up to the sky.

Santana sighed contently then chuckled lightly, "Britts where'd you learn that little number? The look on their faces when you-" She broke off into another fit of sniggers as the lithe blonde repeated her actions, shaking her finger dramatically in a 'no' fashion.

Brittany snapped to attention all of a sudden with an excited grin, "Hey, guys! Let's go on an adventure!" She threw her arms up skyward, accompanied by a happy dance.

"No. Hell no, I am not getting lost in this forest with shit for brains." Quinn scoffed, gesturing to Puck.

Puck pouted like a kid denied candy, "Come on, Fabreeze. I'm sure I could give you a good time." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively with a sleazy grin.

Quinn gagged but surrendered, "Fine, but cell phones on hand at all times."

Brittany squealed before taking Santana by the hand, "Race to that tall tree!" She pointed a single index finger to a tree and sped off in that general direction. Santana followed, laughing boisterously along the way.

But they didn't hear Quinn when she screamed, "Brittany! Brittany, there are fifty fucking tall trees out here!"

Well shit, that's a problem now isn't it?

"Brittany! Stop, we'll get lost!" His voice bounced off trees, echoing mockingly. He huffed in frustration and grabbed her by the elbow before sprinting off after the two Cheerios, hoping to catch them before their whole group separated.

No such luck.

Just then his grip on Quinn's elbow was ripped out of his hands. A sharp intake of air was heard behind him as he grabbed at the empty space where she used to be. He spun quickly around, head lashing wildly.

"Quinn?"

Something grabbed his leg.

"Oh shit!" Puck ripped his leg away, scampering off in the opposite direction and wielding the nearest broken off tree branch as his only weapon.

"Noah, put the tree branch down."

Puck froze, scanning his surroundings briefly.

Nothing in the sky.

Nothing to the left.

Nothing to the right.

He looked behind him slowly, tree branch still clutched tightly in his fist because he knows that this is how people always die in horror movies.

But this isn't a horror movie, so nothing is there either.

"Shit for brains, why don't you check the ground where you left me?"

A scraggly head of blonde hair poked out from the slender frame of Quinn Fabray, currently located on the hard-packed dirt ground and clutching her gashed ankle with her teeth grinding together harshly.

Puck shuddered briefly (read: like a pussy) as glaring hazel eyes met his own and quickly released his death grip on his weapon of choice to instead save face and aid his injured fellow gleek.

He stumbled over his words, "What happened?"

Quinn gestured with a head tilt to the giant log that had somehow escaped his attention span as he was sprinting through the foliage. "That happened. I think I twisted my ankle, it's bleeding too."

"Shit." Puck said.

"Shit happens." Quinn snorted. She rose slowly from her slouched position, pulling herself up with his strong, broad shoulder as her anchor. "Call them and tell them to come back."

Puck nodded briefly, whipping out his cell phone and waiting for the bright screen to flash. When it finally did, he groaned. "Shit happens? More shit just happened. No service, we're in a dead zone."

* * *

><p>"Maybe we should wait for them to catch up, Britts." Santana slowed to a stop, her hand still linked tightly to Brittany's.<p>

"Yeah, maybe. I'm kind of hungry though." Brittany pouted, bringing her spare hand to rest on her lower stomach.

Santana let a small smile grace her lips before rummaging through her leather purse and whipping out a small bag of beef jerky. Brittany raised a brow skeptically, "You know, San, it's not like I'm ungrateful or anything. But I'd never imagined you of all people to have random packs of beef jerky lying around."

"Secret beef jerky fetish." Santana deadpanned, passing a strip to Brittany.

The blonde grinned and hummed in satisfaction as she swallowed. "Oh! Idea, let's take a picture." She pulled her cellular from her back pocket, cycling through her tools to access her camera setting.

"Of beef jerky?" Santana questioned.

"And send it to Rachel." Brittany said, mirth coating every word.

Santana's eyes lit up, all but lunging over to Brittany in one quick motion. They sat there on the patchy grass, arms around each other's waists and temples pressed together. Strips of jerky hung from their lips as they held the bag together in front of them, grinning shrewdly as the timer's flash went off.

Scanning through her contacts, Brittany found the name 'Rachel Berry :O' in neat arial font. Attaching the file, she pressed send.

"For Rachel." Brittany couldn't suppress her grin.

Santana returned the gesture, but before could rise from her makeshift seat Brittany pulled her back down defiantly to land deftly between her legs. Santana's back pressed against Brittany's breasts and smiled as she felt the blonde's jaw line resting upon her shoulder.

"Smile, San." So she did, and another picture was snapped.

Santana furrowed her eyebrows, "What was that one for?"

"For me." Brittany giggled in her ear before leaping to her feet and scanning her contacts once more for a name. She smiled to herself as she eyed the contact name, 'Santana Gets Lowpez'. She'd remembered that drunken night at one of Puck's parties when she and Santana had decided to give everyone new contact names.

She sent the attached file, and then frowned. "Santana it's not sending to you. But that's weird because mine already sent to Rachel."

Santana peeked over her shoulder, "That's because you have AT&T and I have Verizon." She checked her own phone's service, "And I don't have any service here in the middle of nowhere."

Nodding in understanding Brittany slipped her phone in her back pocket. "Hey San, what company do Puck and Quinn use?"

"Verizon, why?

They slowly turned to each other and murmured in unison, "Oh shit."

"Fucking hell Quinn, what if we never get out of here!"

"Calm down, Puckerman. This isn't a big deal."

Puck could only nod and hold his head in his hands. Then he realized something.

He was Noah Puckerman. Puckerooni. Puckzilla. The Puck man. He could handle anything, and this was no different. Except for the fact that Quinn Fabray was here with him, though that should give him even more reason to man the fuck up and deal with the issues at hand.

Jumping to his feet he racked his brain for any viable material. He stripped off his shirt, ripping a strip of his black cotton v-neck off. Quinn watched him wearily as he cautiously slid his hand up her calf, supporting her ankle with his other hand. Resting the injured ankle on his knee, he wrapped his impromptu medical item around the steady flow of blood and looped it twice before securing the ends in a decidedly suitable knot.

"Not bad, Doctor Puckerman." Quinn smiled good-naturedly.

Puck grinned proudly, setting her limb down tenderly. Picking himself up off his knees, he took a moment to decide on what to do.

"Can I carry you?"

"What?" Quinn blinked owlishly.

"I think if we can find our way back to our motorcycles where there are less trees to block out our voices, we could rev up the engines to signal them. There's too much reverberation in the foliage for them to hear us." He offered up his explanation. "So can I carry you?"

"Wow, Noah." She smiled genuinely, her smile reaching her lips for the first time since her break up with Finn. "I'm impressed." She held her arms out to be picked up off the ground.

Puck beamed, proud with his accomplishments and quick thinking. Sweeping her off the ground in one fluid motion, he held her close to his chest and began a steady, slow pace not wanting to aggravate her injuries any more than necessary.

* * *

><p>They'd been thinking of a plan for a solid forty minutes of how to find their friends with no such luck. Santana had been pacing the forest floor for half that time and Brittany occupied her time with random activities to pass the time.<p>

_Vrrrroooooommm, vrrroom, vrrrooooooommm._

Brittany's head snapped up from her nervous fumbling fingers. She turned her head in Santana's direction, who was already on her feet and holding out her hand expectantly. She took the tanned hand and laced their fingers tightly before launching them into the general direction of the noise.

They ran for five minutes. Maybe it was because they were sprinting so fast or maybe because they weren't actually that far away. But no one really cared at this point, simply wanting to get out of the tree line as soon as possible.

They broke into a clearing, whipping their heads in every direction and sighing in relief as they recognized their starting point of the dead end, dirt road.

"Looking for us?" A familiar voice called out teasingly behind them.

Puck grinned as he sat upon his bold red Harley with an injured Quinn Fabray clasped tightly to his back. Brittany and Santana quirked their well-manicured eyebrows in his direction at the injured Cheerio behind him.

"We had an accident." Quinn mused with a roll of her eyes and a playful punch into her driver's shoulder. She smiled as she felt his body reverberate against hers with his rumbling chuckles.

Brittany and Santana gave each other knowing looks, their pinky and ring fingers linked together blandly. Brittany slid her hand out of hers for a second, to stride over to her own motorcycle and wheel it over to Santana.

She bowed, dipping low and arched her arms out in a welcoming fashion, "Your carriage awaits malady." She smiled up at the Latina, now currently rolling her eyes playfully.

"Well aren't you a charmer, Ms. Pierce." She held a hand to her chest in exaggerated flattery and batted her lashes prettily at the blonde girl, feeling a rush of heat lick up her neck when her blue eyes sparkled with held in laughter.

"For a face like yours? Of course, Ms. Lopez." She winked and straddled the front of her Yamaha. Santana laced her arms around her waist, palms pressed into Brittany's middle, and smiled a little when she felt two long fingers tickling her own ring and pinky finger.

Then Santana noticed the sudden silence. It was only her and Britt talking. She turned her gaze to her other company and noticed their interested, watching eyes. The pair's eyes met hers in a stare off.

Seconds ticked by before Brittany finally noted the stare off. It took her a couple extra seconds before she realized just _why_ there was such a fiery stare coming from the other three teens. She bit her lip disappointedly and shakily pulled her fingers away from Santana's.

This was what Santana wanted, Brittany thought to herself.

Santana finally broke the stare and made a split decision. Throwing caution to the wind, she pulled the fingers back into her own grasp and turned her head away from the other two.

Maybe this wasn't the right choice, Santana wondered.

But as Brittany twisted her body halfway to meet her in their own stare off, she could see the unshed tears in her eyes and knew that yes, this was the right choice.

"Let's go home guys." Quinn broke the silence, an unidentifiable look in her eye.

Puck nodded with a quirky grin, "Yeah, break it up, love birds." He finished with a wink and a matching grin from Quinn before speeding off down the road.

Brittany choked, her eyes still on Santana. Brown eyes flit over her facial features momentarily.

Santana just smiled, "We'll figure this out, just give me time."

The blonde pulled her lips in, trying hard to stave off the onslaught of tears that she was sure were coming. She nodded vigorously, wet drops of relief splashing everywhere as a million watt smile filled up her cheeks.

Santana rest her head on the girl's back and sighed in shaky relief because she had no doubt that she'd made the right choice. Because to her, if Brittany was there with her, there was no way that it could be the wrong choice.

* * *

><p>MEMO: Please check out my new story, "All Time Offense", it's my new soccer Brittana story!<p>

* * *

><p>So here we go,<p>

Longest chapter yet! So sorry for not updating recently. It's been a long month and one of my friends passed away. I know you probably didn't want to hear that, but if you'd take a second to think about him I'd appreciate it. His name was Clifton and I wasn't all too close to him, but he was a great guy.

I definitely didn't like this chapter as much as I'd hoped but it was decent and I really just wanted to get an update in as soon as possible.

Reviews and feedback appreciated!

Be safe, love you guys!

-International Annoyance


	5. Chapter 5

Alright, bros. We're going to kick this off with a summarized explanation of the last section of Chapter Cuatro, sound cool?

The Staring:

The stare off between Quinn, Puck, and Santana was a silent conversation. Basically after seeing Santana and Brittany act like a couple, Puck and Quinn stare at Santana as if to say, "Woah, Santana, are you two like a couple? Since when were you gay?" To which Santana responds with her own stare of, "Fuckshitdamn they know I'm gay for BrittBritt." And she's basically freaking out because she's so insecure about her sexuality. Brittany notices and starts feeling discouraged, knowing exactly what Santana is thinking, so she begins to pull her hand away from Santana's hesitantly. Eventually during this estimated fifteen or so seconds of eye conversation and Brittany's pulling away, Santana makes a decision. She decides that it's okay for them to know about her and Brittany, because she trusts them. So she grabs Brittany's fingers before she can pull away entirely, as if to tell Brittany that, "Yes, they know. No, I don't care." And Brittany responds to this by turning around to face Santana, and so overwhelmed with emotion and happiness of Santana's sudden step of acceptance she begins to cry. Like any good lover, Santana comforts her and asks her to give her time to accept herself and eventually let (or force because it's Santana Lopez) others to accept her.

So, super long explanation but I definitely want to make sure that all my lovely readers get the gist of things.

**PLEASE READ THIS NEXT PART.**

My friend told me a couple days ago that only ugly girls read or write fanfiction. He didn't know I wrote so of course I told him and he took it back. Only to say, "Okay fine, only ugly girls read or write fanfiction, excluding you." And that's just not good enough. So someone, anyone, out there PLEASE tell him he's wrong. Because there's over 2,500 hits on this mothertrucker and at least ONE of you out there has to be mildly attractive. Please review and tell me I'm right and this little twat sitting beside me is dead wrong so I can beat his ass.

Now to chapter five.

* * *

><p>Chapter Five<p>

Hurt

Read the author's paragraph before this please so I can deck this kid next to me in the face.

Moving on.

It was Monday morning and bright.

Bright like the slivers of golden rays scattered across floral-printed baby blue wall paper of Brittany Pierce's room and bright like the owner's eyes as she sat cross-legged before her white paint-chipped vanity.

She smiled confidently to her double, dabbing on the bare minimum of powdery minerals to her barely flawed complexion. She wasn't going to lie; she wasn't perfect. No one was perfect, in her opinion, and that's what made people beautiful. It wasn't the flaws that made them beautiful, but the fact that people embraced their flaws that made them so appealing.

She let out a contented sigh, a certain Latina coming to mind. Brittany knew Santana was a bitch. Hell even Santana knew she was a bitch. But it didn't matter to Brittany, because Santana was never a bitch without reason and always went out of her way to apologize to the blonde Cheerio.

Dabbing on a shade of coral lip gloss and a quick touch up on her brown cabernet eye liner, she stepped in front of her mirror. A quick once over told her she looked acceptable for the day.

"Mom, I'm going now!" She called out, popping a muffin into her mouth on the way out.

Her mother poked her head into the kitchen doorway, looking the part of a perfect housewife mother. "Bye honey! Give mom a kiss!"

Brittany rolled her eyes playfully before pecking her mother lightly on the cheek and snatching her keys off a hook nearby.

"You be safe now, you hear?" Her mother chided her softly, her eyes twinkling with years after years of joy .

"Yes mom," She dragged out the last word teasingly, "I'm a big girl now, I don't get lost anymore since San showed me around!" She beamed at the thought of the olive-skinned girl.

Her mother just nodded approvingly, "Alright, just don't get hurt. Okay, Brittany?"

Brittany nodded distractedly as she munched on her muffin, she didn't see the worry in her mother's blue eyes. Exhaling airily, she swept her feet gracefully throughout her household and out to her car. Belting herself in, she checked her mirrors and eyed her reflection one last time.

"Today's the day," She let out a small squeal of excitement, "I can feel it."

* * *

><p>After a good fifteen minute drive Brittany pulled into a vacant slot in the bustling lot of McKinley High School. She was five minutes earlier than expected and currently chewing on her second blueberry home cooked muffin, courtesy of her loving mother.<p>

Reclining in her seat and propping her tennis shoe clad soles on her dashboard; she flicked up the volume on her car's radio.

"_You make my heart beat, fast-er."_

Brittany smiled big, bobbing her head to the tune and humming along before finally joining in without a care in the world.

"You turn me over and over, 'til I can't control myself!" She belted out the lyrics, her left hand on her ear and her opposite making all sorts of gestures in the air, just like Mercedes and Artie had taught her. "Make me a liar! One big disast-er-er! You make my heart be-eat! Faster! Fast-er!" She giggled to herself, hearing herself draw out the syllables dramatically and snorted through her giggles upon realizing how many freshmen had stopped to watch her jam out in her car.

_Whatever, it's a free country. _

Brittany smiled at the thought and made her way through McKinley halls, humming the song all the way down to her locker.

Pep in her step and a smile adorning her milky skin, she scanned the throngs and crowds of people for her (because she called dibs and she'll be_ damned_ if someone breaks that rule) Latina. She sighed with a roll of her eyes upon realizing that Santana was probably late again like every other day. She never really was one for punctuality. She continued scanning the halls nonetheless, this time simply for her locker.

A217. She smiled cutely and gave herself a mental pat on the back for remembering her locker number. She glanced at the locker beside hers and bit her lip. She really wanted to talk to Santana today, especially since this weekend and their outing with Quinn and Puck. Quinn and Puck – Quck. That's what Santana called them to piss them off. She giggled to herself, recalling the antagonist attitude of the Latina.

She let out another sigh, something she'd been doing quite often since the meeting of Santana. It wasn't a bad sigh, no. More of a content sigh than anything else. It was like finding a new hobby – something you adored. Someone you adored. She frowned to herself a bit, Santana wasn't just a hobby, she wasn't something to do. She was a lifeline, she was a hug when she needed it and shoulder when she cried. She was the smoke to her high, the duck to her hat, the –

_Buzzzz._

Well, not that exactly.

Brittany blinked dazedly out of her thoughts when her cell phone vibrated with a white, arial font text message.

**0, 39, 24 – Santana Gets Lowpez**

The blonde smiled brightly, her hand reaching up to twist her locker combination. She frowned again, eyebrows furrowed.

**0, twist to the right and past zero, twist left straight to 24 – Santana Gets Lowpez**

Brittany smiled again cheerily and followed the instructions, fist pumping in victory when the red metal door swung open. Santana _always_ made her days easier, whether it be by a smile or a little, instructional text. She texted back not so discretely, her thumbs flying over the keyboard.

**Thanks Sanny! – B**

**P.s. – xoxoxo (:**

She slammed the send button, satisfied with her self-announced masterpiece.

The reply came not even twenty seconds later, surprising Brittany a little but bringing a small smile to her cheeks. Her smile stretched a little wider with the thought that – maybe, just maybe Santana was eager to talk about their weekend. That maybe Santana had enough time.

A buzz. A text. A smile falling fast.

**We need to talk. – Santana Gets Lowpez**

A nervous shiver ran down her spine like cold fingers on her warm flesh. Her thumbs brushed the keyboard hesitantly before punching in a few black keys.

**Glee later? – B**

The reply came even faster than the last.

**Bathroom, now. – Santana Gets Lowpez**

Brittany swallowed drily, preparing herself for the worst.

Maybe today isn't the day.

* * *

><p>Brittany didn't remember the bathroom being this intimidating on her face day here. What she did remember, however, was how comfortable she felt even though she was in a new place. She remembered that day, trying on her Cheerio uniform, Santana standing outside waiting. She remembered that yes, she was the reason she felt strangely comfortable there.<p>

But here, now in this white walled foundation with swinging stall doors and barely cleansed counters, she found that she wasn't so comfortable. Here, now Santana wasn't waiting outside after having barely met her. She was, instead, standing before her, hip cocked to one side and face unreadable.

"I've had enough time." Santana kept her voice level.

"It's only been a weekend, Santana. Maybe we should think this through some more. We can make this work, I know we can." Brittany struggled to keep her voice just as calm as her friend's.

"No, Brittany." Santana's eyes softened, catching her bottom lip and chewing anxiously. She took a step forward. "I've made a decision, I've had enough time."

"Santana, please. Please, just – just please! I can do this! You can do this! We- We," she grabbed the smaller girl by the shoulders desperately, "We can do this!" She hugged the smaller girl to her body, melding them together with sobs of,_ please _and _we can_.

Over and over again, sobs racked her frame.

Santana smiled sadly with her fingers tracing little patterns of comfort on the girl's shoulders, "No, we can't." Little drops of wetness tracked down her cheeks as she chewed on her lip and pushed her away gently. "Brittany, we –"

Brittany sobbed hysterically once more, "I'll prove it!" She lunged forward, her hands clasping the other girl's with a desperation that seemed so heartbreakingly earnest. She jerked them together in a flurry of movement. Her lips mashed sloppily into the shorter girl's cheek, having missed her actual target from the lack of grace in her movements.

She tried again, taking a deep breath this time and leaning in tensely to kiss the other girl into loving her back just as much as she did.

A sob stopped her abruptly.

"Please, Brittany! Please – please don't do this. I don't want to hurt; it hurts so bad." Santana clung to the other girl's Cheerio top, knuckles paling at the intensity of her grip. "Why does it hurt, Brittany? Why? Why does it hurt so much to feel for someone so much? Why are you hurting me?" She choked again, her knees slowly sliding to the floor.

Brittany followed her, knees sidling up next to hers. She took the other girl in her arms, murmuring delicately into her ears, "Let me stop the hurt, Santana. Let me kiss it away, let me help you." She pressed her forehead to hers, clamping her eyes shut in unease.

Santana shook her head and whispered back just as carefully, "You can't stop the hurt when you're the one hurting me, Brittany."

The blonde sobbed softly into her ear, "Tell me how I'm hurting you, Santana."

"You wouldn't understand." Santana replied, standing up unsteadily.

"Santana, I'm not stupid. Please don't put me off like I am." Brittany hushed out, whimpering dejectedly.

Santana took a shaky breath, "You're not stupid, B. I just don't think you'd understand why I'm hurting."

"Is it something I did this weekend? I swear I'll fix it, I promise. Just please, think on it a little more. We can work this out." Brittany jumped to her feet her voice cracking throughout the sentence, broken and tragic.

And just like that, the time bomb came to the last second.

"I can't do it, Brittany! I can't feel so much for you and care so much for you in _public_, okay? I can't let people see that I want to hold your hand or hold doors open for you or even just _fucking _kiss you on the cheek." Santana sobbed brokenly through her angry yelling and ended with a quiet voice, "I just can't."

"You came out this weekend, to Puck and Quinn! They were okay with it. People will be okay with it."

"You don't know that, Brittany!"

"You can't just go back in the closet now! Not when you're almost out, Santana." Brittany struggled to find the words to keep the Latina, her body shaking with emotion.

"Yes, I can." Santana forced her head up high, trying to ignore the feeling of a fierce heartache in her chest.

Brittany held her gaze defiantly, tear tracks streaming and eyes puffy with pain, "Then you're taking my heart with you. I'll wait for you, Santana." Brittany reached a trembling hand up to stroke the girl's olive skinned cheek. "I'll wait for you, because I know you're worth it." She left a tender, wet kiss on her temple before dragging herself out of the bathroom. She stopped at the door and turned her head to watch Santana, her arms wrapped around herself protectively.

Santana cradled herself, unaware of Brittany's lack of departure and whispered to the supposedly empty room, "Thank you."

Brittany turned on her heel and let the door shut behind her silently, a grim determination in her eyes.

She was going to wait for Santana, because she was worth it.

* * *

><p>This made me cry. I'm not even kidding. Writing this and imagining it in my head, I honestly, seriously cried.<p>

But anyway! This chapter was pretty angsty. And I know many of you probably expected this whole story to be super fluffy and adorable but every story needs at least one struggle in their plot because really, what kind of story keeps readers hooked without some teary moments? I promise you that the next chapter however will be much sweeter, but it will have another time skip just as Chapter Two did.

I had actually originally written two versions of this chapter, one fluffy and adorable and the other was this one. Both were actually pretty equally good so I decided to pick the angsty one, just because it promised more of a plotline and more future chapters (there is a reason for this madness).

Also, if it brightens anyone's days – I wore my new soccer tryout shirt today! I was number 666 to try out (what are the odds of THAT?) and I wore it to school today and my friends now call me Satan as a joke and as soon as someone did I was just like, "Woah! Bro, I'm just like Santana!" It was pretty chill.

Because I have black hair and tan skin, act like a bitch for kicks, I'm a lesbian, AND now I'm called Satan?

Pretty chill, bro.

Brag Bag: Yesterday I shot a soccer commercial! Suck it!

**IMPORTANT: Do you guys want a chapter update every 1-2 weeks with chapters with about 3,000 - 4,000 words? Or would you like me to just post whenever I have a sudden bout of inspiration (which is really every other day), BUT they'll be significantly shorter and probably about 1,500 words long. PLEASE REVIEW YOUR REPLY TO THIS QUESTION. **

Questions, comments, concerns, or just need someone badass to talk to? Review!

Your time and reviews are well appreciated!

International Annoyance


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I'm _so_ sorry for not updating recently. You guys have been so patiently awaiting my updates and I honestly have no respectable excuse for you guys. I've literally tried to write this chapter four times over (I had three different chapters written out for this and ended up picking this one), and backspaced a trillion times. Unlike other authors, I don't outline the plot. I just kind of sit down with my laptop and a jar of peanut butter (it's my inspiration snack, sue me), and write until I feel like it's okay. Usually it isn't and I end up backspacing the shit out of it until the screen is blank again.

Extra apologies for all the people who sent me pm's asking me to update because I never answered you back. But here's the update at least. It's not the best chapter I've written and it's not even funny or angsty, it's just kind ofthere. It's a filler and it's not a good one. I'm not pleased with the writing or the layout of the chapter at all and I'm really sorry, I just wanted to get the update out there ASAP.

So much love for the people who sent reviews and love via my tumblr, ibeastdaily. tumblr. com, and here on FF. I promise to try harder to get my updates in soon and actually make them worth reading because my writing lately has been far from good stuff and you guys deserve an amazing update if you're going to wait it out this long.

Sorry again because you waited so long for a chapter that isn't even so good. Anyway, here it is.

Thanks for sticking with it!

- International Annoyance

* * *

><p>When Brittany goes back to class she doesn't really know what to say. Everyone goes on with their days like nothing big had happened – like she didn't just get her heart handed back to her all bruised and tampered with.<p>

Jacob Israel still checks out every girl that walks into the room and the girls still loosen the clasps of their backpacks to lower them to cover their behinds. Mrs. Burrill still smiles in an overbearingly cheerful way at every student that happens to regretfully stumble into the room and the students still shuffle uncomfortably to their seats and try to shake off the unwavering stare of their teacher.

Nothing has changed and it kind of upsets her. Couldn't anyone see her hurting? Didn't anyone care to ask how she was fairing?

She's being ridiculous and she knows it, but damn it all, having your would-be girlfriend throw your efforts back at you kind of makes you feel ridiculously upset.

"Ms. Pierce? Honey, are you feeling alright? You've been standing in the door for quite a while!" Mrs. Burrill somehow manages to speak through her smile.

Brittany stares at her blankly, trying in a half-assed manner to process the questions and not get so distracted by the blinding, unnecessary set of teeth beaming up at her. She takes a second to look over the class. Everyone seems to be watching her now, waiting for her to respond. Since when were her answers that interesting? Or did everyone know what happened in the bathroom no less than twenty minutes ago?

Brittany shakes her head, no, she's pretty sure they're just staring because she's been standing in the doorway for well over three minutes. That, and she's hot.

Mrs. Burrill purses her lips and nods her head slowly, "I see, well I'll write you off a pass and you can go get checked out by the school nurse. Okay, sweetheart?"

Brittany nods her head dazedly, not quite sure how the woman knew she wasn't feeling all too well. She takes slow, steady steps to her teacher's desk and watches the way the scribbling pen and hall pass bob up and down with her steps. She stops at the edge, waiting for her first block teacher to finish writing out the bubbly cursive of her name.

"How did you know I wasn't feeling well?" Brittany asks when the rectangular paper is pushed into her palm. She twiddles with the corners making little swan wings with her thumbs and pointer fingers and waits for her answer.

Mrs. Burrill's mouth flat lines and shifts to one side of her face. She tilts her head in concern, "Well you didn't answer me back for maybe half a minute and you shook your head awhile later. Brittany, is everything alright at home? Do I need to have a talk with someone?"

"No ma'am, I probably just caught something over the weekend. I'll just go." Brittany offers her a shy smile of reassurance and spins on her heel, her bright green backpack sliding with the weight of her movements. She pauses in the doorway when something, or a lack of something, catches her eye. She cranes her neck to address her teacher, "Where's Santana?"

"I'm not sure, dear, but the tardy bell hasn't rung yet so I'm sure she's well on her way." She responds cheerily with a swing of her arm.

Brittany nods in acceptance and continues her path towards the door before spinning a 180 again, "Mrs. Burrill," She pauses until they've made eye contact, "Please stop smiling so much, it's creepy. And the arm swing is so Andy Griffith, tone the old people stuff down some."

Two steps into the doorway something crashes into her. "Oof!" Brittany grunts into her shoulder, taking a step back to assess the damage. She veers back in confusion because pretty sure the door was open when she walked out, but she's so out of it right now that she's almost certain she may have forgotten to check.

"Where are you going?"

Brittany pries her eyes away from the open door to speak with her apparently human barrier. "I'm leaving for the nurse, not feeling so good." Her tone is flat in comparison to her usually excited tone, but firm in a way that surprises her.

Santana furrows her brow and pops her hip to one side. She crosses her arms across her chest – a sure-fire sign of insecurity. "About what?"

Brittany lifts a brow, not at all phased by the Latina's behavior, "Normally when someone's going to the nurse you ask them what's wrong or if they're sick."

"That's what I meant." Santana replies hastily.

The bell rings out shrilly down the tiled halls. Brittany sidesteps her and continues her walk to the nurse. She turns around for what seems like the hundredth time that day and bypasses the girl's previous comment. "You're late, you should go."

Santana swallows dryly, avoiding eye contact feebly. Her teeth grind hard, catching little pinches of her cheek occasionally. She takes a couple seconds to compose herself before taking what she hoped was a confident, casual stroll up to the blonde. "Is this about what happened earlier? Is that why you don't feel well?"

Brittany relaxes a little at the concerned tone. She watches how the Latina eyes the brick patterns of the school's walls in shame, no doubt replaying the past hour's events over in her head. Her eyes are still a little puffy from crying and her lips are twisting into that God awful frown, but she's still undoubtedly Santana and to Brittany, therefore still beautiful. "What? No, I'm fine. Are you?"

"A hundred percent."

"Great."

"Good."

"Awesome."

They watch each other for longer than what anyone would deem necessary, waiting for one of them to make a move. It's Santana this time. She opens her mouth then closes it again. After repeating the action for a grand total of three times she finally gives up on actual words and chooses to save face and run while she can.

Without a glance back to Brittany she walks briskly into class, ignoring the low murmurs of, 'What happened?' and 'Has she been crying?' She plants herself in the seat, slumping when she realizes the only class company she has nearby is Jewfro, the virgin boy wonder.

She doesn't see Brittany smiling in the hallway to herself and strolling down the hall with a skip in her step. She doesn't hear the blonde chuckling on her way to the nurse's office and mumbling a satisfied, "Got 'em." She doesn't know that Brittany has her all figured out and she really doesn't know that Brittany has a plan.

* * *

><p>When Brittany arrives at the office she doesn't really know what to say. The place is spotlessly clean, so much so that you can see your reflection in the cabinets and she's pretty sure the cabinets are made out of grey-speckled, opaque plastic. The blonde doesn't have much time to think on it though because within three seconds of arriving and less than one second of scoping the place out she's being shoved into an empty seat by an enthusiastic dirty blonde and beside one Quinn Fabray.<p>

The woman is in her face as soon as her cheeks touch the cushy, grey seat. She talks faster than Brittany can process and she's wondering now if Rachel and this lady might be related.

"Hi, I'm Terri and I'll be your nurse today and everyday of this school year! Just sit tight here while I go get Quinny's stuff! You two can have your girl talk!" She's out the door with a fluttering wave and into an adjoined storage room in even less time than it took her to talk.

"So, what are you in here for?" Quinn asks with a quirky smile.

Brittany plays along with a cheeky grin and a nonchalant shrug, "Oh you know the usual. Saved a couple students from a raging lab fire and had to get myself checked out for badassery overload."

Quinn rolls her eyes at her fellow Cheerio then gives her a look. "Oh please, that's amateur stuff."

Brittany scoffs and sits up straighter in her seat, "You would know, wouldn't you?" She gives herself a mental pat on the back for her quick words.

"You're killin' me, Pierce. So what are you here for really?" Quinn asks softly, scanning her for any bruises.

Brittany fidgets uncomfortably under the attention and brings her knees up to her chest. "I'm not feeling so good is all."

"Yeah, Santana has that effect on people."

The dancer's head snaps to the other girl so fast she's sure she almost got whiplash. "What? I didn't mention Santana."

"Brittany, you have Santana Stress Syndrome written all over you," Quinn says matter-of-factly, "We've all been through it before."

The girl is clearly struggling with her words if her lack of quick response is any indication. She wants to defend Santana because she really, really likes her and it's practically law that you're supposed to back up the people you like, but the more she thinks about it, the surer she is that Quinn is making sense.

She backs Santana up anyway, "She's not bad. I don't know why everyone talks like she is."

Quinn's eyes soften, having recalled the memories of the past weekend. "You're right. I didn't mean it to come out that way. We've all given each other a fair share of stress in the past."

Brittany nods affirmative and has to refrain herself from asking what stress Quinn is talking about because something is telling her this isn't the time or place to ask. Quinn takes notice.

"It's going to get out to you eventually one way or another so I might as well tell you my little bit of all our fucked up lives here at McKinley," Quinn looks like she's having trouble spitting the words out and rocks back in her seat before continuing, "I'm here for birth control pills."

Brittany's features soften from a furrowed brow to a sad smile. She's seen enough Degrassi, Secret Life of an American Teenager, and Skins to see where this is going. She presses a careful palm to the other girl's hand, and gives her an encouraging smile. There's nothing but support there and it's more than Quinn could've hoped for. It's just what she needed and didn't get enough of last year.

"I'm here for birth controls because last year I had a pregnancy scare," Quinn looks like she's holding back a laugh, "and it happened in the stupidest way."

There's a comfortable pause and Quinn squeezes Brittany's hand playfully.

"I was making out with my ex boyfriend, Finn Hudson, in a hot tub and he's always had some, erm, bad timing," Quinn's voice is cracking with uneven giggles, "And you see the jets were on…"

"No way!" Brittany shoots a hand to her mouth to cover her giggles.

The shorter girl nods her head and snorts a laugh, sending the girls into a louder fit of giggles.

It takes them a couple solid minutes to calm down, but when they finally do Quinn gives her a look that tells her they're better friends now. It's pretty quiet and they're having one of those moments where the silence isn't really awkward until you realize it's awkward. Brittany is racking her brain for things to say when Quinn jumps in a does it for her.

"You like Santana and Santana likes you, but Santana is being Santana and won't admit it." Quinn says bluntly.

"No!" Brittany blurts out nervously. Fuck shit damn, she's almost a hundred percent sure that someone knowing about her almost relationship with Santana isn't going to help the closeted girl come out of her shell.

"No?" Quinn drawls and lifts a brow lazily.

"No. Well yes, she's a great friend, but-"

"So you don't like her?"

"Yeah, but-"

"So you do? Come on now, make up your mind. You like her?"

"Of course, she's Santana!"

"Normally that's the reason people would be saying no," Quinn chuckles at the taller girl's flustered cheeks and staggered breathing. "It's okay, Britt. You don't have to tell anybody else about all this, just tell me what's going on. I want to help you and Santana be happy."

Brittany nods her head. Her head is spinning from the overload of her interrogation coupled with her headache from her crying fit in the bathroom this morning. "Thanks, Quinn."

Quinn nods, "I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Santana already sent me a text this morning and told me everything that happened this morning," she smiles when she sees the half-glare on her friend's face, "Yes, I did just interrogate you for the hell of it."

"Oh, you frigid bitch."

Quinn thumps her chest twice with her palm before pointing up to the sky with all the swag of a church choir girl, "You know it."

Just then Terri comes in with a walk so happy you're sure she's _happy_ on something. She's up in Quinn's face in record time with a plastic baggie of one white pill, "Here you are, Miss Fabray! Have a happy day!"

Right, _happy._

Quinn just cringes at the woman's loud voice and strolls her way out the door. Before she leaves she turns back to Brittany with a sweet smile, "I'll help you get your girl, Brittany. Bitch won't know what hit her. I'll forward you her texts tonight."

"Like a double agent?" Brittany asks with a goofy smile.

"Sure, Brittany, like a double agent." Quinn replies with an equally quirky grin.

"Right, commence operation SWBMB as of 0700." Brittany says seriously.

"SWBMB? Brittany, what the hell are we doing at seven in the morning?" Quinn scrunches her eyebrows up.

Brittany winks slyly and tilts her head back to rest against the wall cockily, "Operation Santana Will Be My Boo. You'll see it all unfold tomorrow morning."

Quinn walks out of the room with a roll of her eyes and a quick smile to Brittany. The tall blonde sits alone in the room until Terri seems to snap out of her eavesdropping when Brittany asks a question to no one in particular. "So is Quinn a virgin?"

Terri turns to her with a beaming smile that scarily reminds her of Mrs. Burrill. She sends her a wink with her reply, "Only on Sundays!"

Brittany just wants a share of whatever this lady is so high on.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Boom, bam. Chapter end.

I hope you guys were okay with this chapter, I know it wasn't good, but I promise the next one will be so much better. I'm not a big angst writer because I like comedic, cute stuff better so the angst is over soon, don't worry! Just so everyone knows this story won't be very long because I still have to get all up on my soccer Brittana fic. I do, however, already have a really cute start on the sequel (even though I haven't even finished both stories...) and I haven't decided which story the sequel will go to yet because it works for both.

So, that's all for now. Thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated!

Also, shamelessly promoting myself. My personal tumblr is (without the spaces), www. ibeastdaily. tumblr. com.

and I'll have a side blog for all my fics and freewrites up soon so feel free to follow, peeps.

That's all, thanks!

- IA


	7. Chapter 7

This is complete and total crack, I don't even know what I'm writing anymore. I'm so sorry that you guys really like this story, I think it's kind of sucky.

Anyway, I made this chapter kind of Santana/Friends centric because I believe the coming out phase is really important.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of the "For Dummies" series.

* * *

><p>"It's flawless, Quinn. First I'll throw the nougat, then the sprinkles, then I'll strip and do a dance number."<p>

Quinn glared at her suspiciously, "I can't tell if you're fucking with me or not."

"You're right. First sprinkles, _then _nougat. Then stripping dance number."

The shaggy-haired blonde tapped and rubbed at her bottom lip pensively before resting her chin atop her knuckles. "Why do we even need candy?"

Brittany wrinkled her nose, scoffing as if the answer was obvious. "It's what I feed Lord Tubbington. Food makes him really happy. He's stubborn and Santana's super stubborn, so she'll be super happy." She smiled winningly before continuing, "But sometimes he poops out candy bars and I don't know if Santana would be okay with that. Maybe I should ask?"

"No!" Quinn shouted abruptly, jumping to her feet. She quickly sat down after seeing the look of shocked confusion on her friend's face. "Uh, something tells me Santana won't be comfortable with that."

Brittany huffed, "Well why not? I'm just looking out for her!"

The shorter of the two sucked in her lips, humming quietly to herself and struggling to think of a way to change Brittany's mind.

"She's allergic, told me in second grade."

"To nougat?" Brittany gasped, leaning forward in her seat from the couch.

"And sprinkles."

"That's awful, I feel so bad now," the dancer mumbled, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Quinn nodded sympathetically, "Yeah, well that cancels out the candy. Maybe we could just have you sing her a sweet song?"

"I'm thinking 'Panty Droppa' by Trey Songz," Brittany said, moving up from her spot on the couch. She mumbled the lyrics to herself, slowly pulling the hem up her shirt up, "Ultimate lap dance song."

The head cheerleader scrambled over to the taller girl, pushing the girl's shirt down with comically wide eyes. "Why don't we try something less sexual, like-"

Brittany ignored her, squealing with glee, "Got it! What about 'One Less Lonely Girl'? Biebs represent!"

"Your voice is high enough for it. Then again most girls' are." Quinn quipped. "But she'd sooner stuff herself in a locker than let herself be serenaded with a Bieber song."

Throwing herself onto the couch, Brittany stuffed her face into a plush pillow. She took a slow, deep breath before groaning loudly and kicking her feet frantically inn frustration. She picked her head up only to smoosh her pinking cheek hard against the arm of the cushy leather couch. She pouted sadly up at the other girl. "Quinn, you're her best friend. Tell me what to do to make her realize I'm what she needs."

The petite girl shuffled over to her with a sweet smile. She laid a steady, comforting hand over the small of Brittany's back. "Already on it."

She reached over for her designer bag on her family's Brazilian wood coffee table and fumbled through her belongings. Three seconds and a couple disheartened sniffles later Quinn managed to pull out her iPhone. She scrolled through her contacts before picking out a name beside a rainbow emoji.

"Kurt? I need a favor."

* * *

><p>"Kors' whores are making their entrance. Over."<p>

A tall, skinny boy walked quickly through the throngs of McKinley Titan students with a phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. He did his best to keep a lookout for potential threats to his wardrobe, particularly slushies.

"Kors' whores? Really?"

"He's a brilliant designer, Quinn. Leave Michael alone!"

"You're lucky we like all the same designers or we'd never be friends."

Kurt rolled his eyes and weaved his way down the halls before stopping to dodge behind a set of lockers. He let out a sigh of relief when no one called him out on it. Peeking around the metal corner he scanned the area for a certain feisty Latina.

He brought the phone to his mouth, hissing into the speaker, "Target is not in sight, I repeat target is not in sight!"

"She'll be there in a minute; she had a chemistry test today and she's probably just finishing up. Oh wait, isn't Blaine supposed to be with you?"

Kurt's head snapped up immediately, eyes peeled for his elusive bow-tied boyfriend. He snorted when he spotted the boy loitering by a set of posters in plain sight. Irritated, but unwilling to give up his hiding place, he tried to get the other boy's attention.

"Blaine!"

No response.

"Blaine Anderson!"

Good try.

"I heard there's a 50% off sale at Macy's on bowties."

The gelled boy perked up immediately, "Who said that?"

"Blaine!"

"Oh hey, Kurt! Look, there are some posters for next semester's electives. I'm really interested in this cosmetology class. Mrs. Peterson said they have some really cool hair products coming in."

Kurt blinked at his boyfriend and brought a palm up to his face to quietly seethe. He inhaled sharply, taking with him all the mean, but probably true, things he could've possibly said. He spread his fingers to reveal one glaring eye. "We are on a mission. We can't let them down, Blaine."

The shorter boy's shoulders dropped in shame. "Yeah you're right. I'll just grab a poster then." He smiled, tearing down the poster and walking across the hall to store it in his locker.

Kurt pulled his hands away from his face to cross him arms and pursed his lips at his boyfriend. Blaine didn't miss the look and raised his hands in surrender, a sheepish smile on his lips.

"Sorry, Kurt," He swallowed nervously when he didn't get a response. "You can be on top tonight."

"I'm breaking out the nipple tassels."

Blaine winced, "Yes, dear."

The taller boy finally uncrossed his arms, gesturing for his boyfriend to come share his hiding spot. He scurried over, squishing into Kurt to fit into the small corner. He sighed, staring down at his striped Sperry top-siders. How did he always get himself into these situations?

"You remember the plan right?"

The boy fiddled with his sweater vest nervously, "Uh, remind me again?"

Kurt inhaled through his nose harshly. He's usually really patient with his boyfriend, but he's been on this James Bond kick since Skyfall came out and he really wants to do the double agent proud.

Blaine folded his arms over his nipples protectively. He's so in for it tonight. He might need to break out his boyfriend's emergency moisturizing kit later.

"The target will arrive–"

"The target? You mean Santana?"

"Near the capture point in t-minus two minutes–"

"That's Mr. Kidney's closet, right?"

"When she arrives we'll storm the castle–"

"Because no one will suspect two gay guys kidnapping a girl."

"And deliver her to the location point where we will begin the intervention."

"We'll show her why being gay is totally okay!"

"Your nipples will be purple tomorrow."

Blaine sighed in defeat.

Kurt brought the phone back to his ear. "Quinn? You still there?"

"I tried not to be as soon as you mentioned nipple tassels. I can't unheard the things I've heard."

The boys shrugged unabashedly.

"Hold on, I see her. She just left the classroom. She should be turning onto your hall right about now."

Kurt squealed in excitement, bringing the phone close to his lips. Just then Santana Lopez rounded the corner, an entourage of Cheerios behind her. Kurt let out a puff of air. "Quinn, we have company."

The Cheerios were close behind the Latina, each armed with their choice of flavored slushie. There was no way around them and no way to get to the target without being seen.

"What company?"

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows before taking the phone from his boyfriend to speak. "The Cheerios are right behind her," He turned to Kurt, "We need a distraction."

"Think of something, I have Pre-calculus, bye!" Quinn ended the call.

Kurt swallowed thickly, his breathing growing heavy and panicked. He glanced down at his outfit quickly, almost sobbing when he realized how damn good he looked. He'd picked out his favorite suit just for this occasion. Just for this mission. Fuck all.

Just then he caught a red bush out of the corner of his eye.

Jacob Ben Israel, the Muckraker's leading reporter and the general population's creepiest stalker, had just graced the public with his presence.

"Hey! JBI! Jacob!" Kurt yelled across the tiled hall, waving his manicured fingers at the soulless ginger boy. "I have something you might want to hear!"

Blaine's eyes went wide; his head snapping back and forth between his ecstatic boyfriend and the school's lowest of the low. "Kurt, what the fuck?"

In a flash the boy was in front of the couple, a notepad and recorder shoved in the couples' faces. He was awfully dressed, almost unbearably so when standing next to the very fashionable couple. His hair was frazzled and unkempt, coupled with what looked to be a glob of untouched hair mousse.

"You poor soul." Blaine hushed out, eyeing the pitiful hairdo. The blob of white goo mocked him, sitting alone among curls of carroty colors. He reached out slowly.

Kurt slapped his hand away deftly, gently chiding, "Blaine, don't feed the animals."

Jacob snarled, baring his yellowing canines with a hiss, "You have something you want to tell me, gayboy?"

"Wow, gayboy, that's original," Kurt blinked. "Anyway, I heard something really interesting near the girls' locker room," he whispered with shifty eyes. He waited for the boy to lean in eagerly.

Kurt nodded his head towards the Cheerios discreetly, "See that girl in the back? That's Marcey. She's a newbie."

Jacob nodded, already having heard about all the new cheerleaders. He had brilliant connections. He rolled his eyes, "What else? What about her?"

"She's preggers."

The reporter was sprinting to the cheerleaders in no time, a small camcorder in his hand already. He shoved through the group of cheerleaders, paying no mind to the glares and screeches of the girls. When he finally reached Marcey he couldn't contain his excitement. "So who's the baby daddy?"

Cherry, green apple, blueberry, grape, orange, flavors of every kind doused him.

He didn't stand a chance.

Blaine and Kurt watched from behind the safety of the metal lockers, checking each other's outfits afterwards for high fructose corn syrup and artificially flavored stains. When they each received the clear they peered out cautiously from behind their metal shields.

There were colors everywhere. It was like a glorified rainbow had spawned in McKinley. If Kurt wasn't in such a rush to grab Santana and shove her into a closet he'd stop and take a picture to set as his background.

"Kurt, let's go!" Blaine tugged at his elbow, spotting the Latina in the midst of the mayhem, a great glob of orange slush on her face.

The couple darted forward, hooking their arms through the blinded girl's and dragging her back into Mr. Kidney's closet. Kurt shut the door firmly behind him, one hand palming along the walls blindly for a light switch.

The three sighed in relief when he finally did.

The relief was short-lived though. In almost no time the Latina was spitting curses and flinging the orange slush off her face and in every direction.

Kurt ducked behind Blaine and screamed, "The suit! Anything but the suit!"

Santana calmed considerably, squinting under the harsh light.

"Ladyface?"

"Hello, Satan," Kurt grumbled from his vantage point.

"What am I doing here?"

Blaine smiled as charmingly as he could under the circumstances. "We want to talk to you about something."

Santana eyed them warily, shifting uncomfortably in her corner of the small broom closet. Her eyes flickered to the guarded door quickly.

"Puck's guarding the door. There's no escape," Kurt said with a mischievous smirk.

The Cheerio crossed her arms in defiance. "Is this some kind of threesome proposition? Because I'm into some kinky shit, but I was never really good at sharing."

Blaine pressed his lips into a thin line, knowing he'd have to play nice for everyone's sake if they all wanted to leave the room friends. He gave her his best soothing smile, "Listen, Santana, we really care about you. We want you to be happy."

Santana stepped back, clenching her jaw in discomfort.

Kurt had been watching her thoughtfully from his side of the closet, weighing the options carefully in his head. He could go for the slow, easy approach. It'd take some time, but it was almost guaranteed that she'd cave at some point. Then again he could go for the fast, but effective method. He could just spit it out fast and get home faster.

More time to find his nipple tassels.

Sounds like a plan.

"You're totally gay and we want to help."

He barely registered the sound of his boyfriend sighing exasperatedly into his hand. Kurt shrugged, so maybe he hadn't made the best choice. He cleared his throat, opting for the other approach.

"We've noticed you've been having some feelings." He continued slowly, easing her in slowly for what he knew was a hard topic, "Feelings for someone."

"Who told you?" She growled out angrily.

"Quinn told us, but you have to understand that-"

"I'll kill her!"

"This is for the best. You need to love yourself, Santana! You can't love someone else until you love yourself, that's just how it works!"

Santana looked away in shame, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. "Of course I love myself. There's nothing wrong with me!"

"Exactly, Santana! There's nothing wrong with you, so stop pretending that-"

"That what, Kurt? That I'm what? I'm straight, okay?" She was screaming now, completely livid.

The room went silent for a minute, then two. No one moved or bothered to say a thing. There wasn't much to be said. If Santana felt the need to defend her sexuality, then there was obviously something there.

"Santana –" Blaine started nervously.

"No, I don't–"

"You need this, Santana. You'll never be happy if you don't understand yourself and love yourself. I'm not going to force you because it's not fair. But know that what you're doing to yourself and even to Brittany," Kurt paused and stepped closer to her, "That's not fair either."

Santana scowled at them, "I'm not – I don't like girls!"

"It's okay to be scared. You're really brave already; no one's going to judge you for being scared," Blaine said almost inaudibly.

"I'm not scared of anything, I have nothing to be scared of!"

"Shut up, Santana! Just shut up, you know you are!" Kurt yelled back at her, his angry, reddening face near hers, "It hurts and it's scary and it feels like you're walking through a minefield just to get to where you want to be!"

The room fell quiet again, soaking up all their yelling and screaming like a sponge.

"I'm not scared of Brittany," Santana replied feebly.

Kurt inhaled sharply at the confession. He exhaled easily when the smaller hands of his boyfriend lay comfortingly on his hips. "Then what are you scared of, Santana?"

"I'm afraid of the consequences. I'm afraid of all the talks and the looks; I know what happened to you at this school, Kurt. Hell, I did some of it."

"Santana," Kurt smiled softly at her, pulling Blaine beside him, "Look, we're still around."

Santana sucked her lips into her mouth, clenching her eyes shut hard. She still remembered every slushie she'd thrown, every dumpster toss she'd cheered on, and every school prank she'd pulled on boys like them. She couldn't handle all that – not after having worked so hard to get to the top of her social pyramid.

Blaine, sensing her inner turmoil, stepped forward to pull her into a warm hug. He tugged on his boyfriend's hand insistently, willing him to join the embrace. They ignored the way Santana tensed and shuddered with unshed tears, opting instead for supporting words and encouraging compliments.

The taller boy pulled away first. He went to rummage through his backpack and cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to will the thick, suffocating tension away. "Blaine and I grabbed some pamphlets from Ms. Pillsbury's office."

Santana glanced warily at the thick stack of papers passed her way.

_Broom Closet to Gay Prophet!_

_The Benefits of Being a Unicorn_

_No Condoms, No Worries!_

_Surviving Highschool for Dummies: The Lesbian Edition_

_Embracing Your Inner Ellen_

"Wow," Santana muttered half-heartedly, "These are something else."

Blaine perked up at the comment, "Thanks, I helped her titles some of them!"

"I'm surprised they don't play music when you open them," she said.

The bow-tied boy stared at her expectantly.

* * *

><p>Kurt stormed up the Pierce's front porch, beautifully polished dress shoes thumping with every stomp up the stone steps. He fumed to himself as he raised a fist to knock hurriedly on the deep royal blue door.<p>

_Thump, thump, thump!_

"Quinn! Brittany! Open up!" He yelled.

In almost no time he heard the hollow thuds of bare feet hurrying down a hardwood staircase. There was a faint clashing of metal on metal behind the door. Keys, he presumed.

The door flew open in record time. Two blondes grabbed blindly at his arms to haul him into the large house. They guided him up the stairs eagerly, paying no mind to his complaints or the thuds of his shins smacking stair edges.

As soon as they reached Brittany's room he was shoved into a computer chair and met with two expectant stares.

"Well? How did it go?" Quinn urged eagerly.

Brittany beamed at him hopefully, encouraging him silently with a nod of her head.

He sighed dejectedly.

"We need a new game plan."

* * *

><p>Quinn and Kurt waited patiently in front of Brittany, a small dry board eraser held between them. Three numbered sentences were scribbled haphazardly on top of black smudges and poorly erased dry marker.<p>

The head Cheerio cleared her throat confidently, "This is what we've come up with."

"Make me an offer I can't refuse," Brittany commanded lowly around a mouthful of marshmallows. She sat perched on the arm of her big, cushy rolling chair behind her wooden desk, a fat cat in her arms. She pet him soothingly, her spare hand cupping her chin and stroking her own imaginary beard.

"Alright so here's what we have so far: make her jealous, dress like a ho until she fucks you in the hallway, or woo her into submission."

"Oh, oh!" Brittany jumped up from her seat, bouncing up and down. "Number two! I'd totally be into that. But three sounds cool too; she'd make a cute bottom."

The other two nodded to each other briefly, both letting out tired sighs.

Quinn took the initiative, "How about you sleep on it tonight and text us in the morning?"

Brittany nodded affirmative before rocketing herself into them, pulling them into a massive bear hug. "SWBMB is a go!"

The two shared a tired smile over her shoulders.

* * *

><p>Three miles away Santana Lopez cracked open a bright yellow pamphlet with two smiling stick figure girls doodled on it. She grimaced and groaned when Blaine's and Kurt's rendition of "Perfect" by Pink came blaring out from the speaker inside.<p>

"For Dummies, huh?" Santana mumbled to herself, flicking swiftly through the thin pages. She cycled back to the first page after a quick run through. She rolled her eyes at the page's header title.

Learn to love your lady lovin' self!

#1. Start slow! Wear a small charm or bracelet reminding yourself of your sexuality.

Do boobs count?

Santana tugged at the neckline of her shirt peering down at her attractive cleavage, "Yup, I'm totally gay."

* * *

><p>I feel like I'm Ryan Murphy because this story has zero continuity and I take EPIC long hiatuses. There's not a whole lot of Brittana interaction, but there will be next chapter for sure. I hope you guys got the jokes in the chapter, I always get worried that people won't get my weird sense of humor.<p>

You can vote for one of the three choices for the SWBMB operation.

Also I'm looking for a beta! Because as you can see I probably have a million mistakes in this fic.

Thanks to everyone that stuck with it!

Nayagasm


End file.
